


Dreaming of You

by roshytsunami



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chubby Prompto Argentum, Dream Travel, Hanahaki Disease, Luna is a good bro, M/M, Slow Burn, carbuncle is a good bro, papa cor, prompto doesn't lose the weight, ptsd noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roshytsunami/pseuds/roshytsunami
Summary: There's this kid at school that Prompto hates - or at least, Prompto thinks that Noctis hates him. Meanwhile, there's this kid in his dreams every night that Prompto loves - and it is literally killing him. Because, Prompto has Hanahaki over his dream boy. Flowers sprouting from the lips seems romantic in the movies but in real life it's mushy leaves and flowers covered in saliva and blood, not so beautiful. Prompto needs to find out who his true love is and confess to him before it's too late. But will knowing the truth make him surrender to the disease?
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 27
Kudos: 37
Collections: Promptis Big Bang 2020





	1. Tiger Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all this is for the Promptis Big Bang. I got to work with an awesome artist named Gocing who did the cover for this fanfic. You can find their art blog here https://oldead666.tumblr.com and their art piece for the fic can be found here https://oldead666.tumblr.com/post/630846040665440256/for-cover-dreaming-of-you-by-my-partner
> 
> Edited by: Pom Pomfry

** Dreaming of You **

There is a story of how the disease Hanahaki came to be. Scientists in the current time have been able to explain it as a manifestation due to stress, hormones, and certain chemical imbalances that trigger the disease, however; this disease can not be proven fully by science as with most disease processes. Science has only come so far in how to slow the disease progress; it does not cure it completely. Old legends and references from older books before the Hanahaki disease came to be are still used when science can no longer prolong the disease process. There is no scientific way to prove that love can be measured, that love is the cure for a disease that forms flowers within the lungs.

The story is as such: long ago, when Eos was still new and the Astrals still communicated with the mortals, a king ruled the lands. The king was spoiled, selfish, and greedy. It is not known if he was born with this behavior or if unforeseen circumstances made him a horrible man. What is known is that his selfish nature doomed generations of people for all time.

The king was bored and unhappy with his subjects. While they praised him, paid their taxes, and offered no complaints within his earshot, he still wanted more. He wanted obedience. He wanted control over his subjects’ every movement. They should love him. They should respect him, respect his power, and might. How _dare_ they not worship his every step? How dare they not love their king as fiercely as they loved their own flesh and blood?

This emotion, these questions, grew and brewed within the king for many months. He had everything his heart could ever want; an obedient wife, riches beyond compare, mechanisms, and devices from other lands, technology only he could control in his possession, yet he wanted more. He wanted absolute love from his people.

His advisor saw his turmoil and try as they might in redirecting the king from the foolish wish, the king still persisted in wanting this full love. He wanted it to be visible to all. For the love, his community had to be displayed before him, and him alone. His advisors warned him against such goals. His advisor showed him the loving wife he had acquired, his wealth, and technological advancements that were improving his kingdom. None of this pleased the king and as such he had his advisor executed in front of his subjects. He needed to have this love shown to him.

After his advisor was executed, he sought out the Holy Woman for help. He needed to commune with the gods, and they had not answered his call. The woman tried to dissuade the king from seeking their help because, while the Astrals were worshipped for their acts, they were devious and cunning little deities. The king ignored the warning and threatened the woman to give his message to the Astrals or fall on the blade as his advisor had done. Seeing no other choice, the woman called upon the Astrals and asked for their blessing, and thanks.

Nothing seemed to happen for a long time. Minutes passed before sparkling and swirling light appeared before the king, forming like a void. From it came a small humanoid-shaped being barefoot and horns protruding from their head.

“You have called,” the Astral said, looking over at the worried woman. It smirked before turning its gaze upon the king. “You forced her hand.”

“Y-Yes. I need—"

“You need nothing mortal,” it bellowed, jewelry around its ankles shaking. “You only want something I do not seek to give.”

The king furrowed his brow. “You know my wish?”

“Of course." It smirked, moving closer towards the king, only coming to his waist. “You seek obedience, control, power. It is foolish to seek these things. Be happy with what you have and ask for nothing more," it warned.

The king refused to listen.

“No,” he said, raising a sword against the Astral.

The woman hissed at the king. "How dare you threaten an Astral? Lower your weapon at once,” she demanded as the king shifted his eyes towards his guards. The guards seized the woman and one killed her on the spot sword through the abdomen with a quick movement.

The Astral grinned. “You think me so easy to intimidate?”

“No…I have shown you my power. It may not be much compared to an Astral, but you were wrong in judging me even while knowing my wish. My wish…my command you will follow,” he sneered, "is for the love of my people to be expressed solely towards me. I want to see their love for me. No displayed for me for as long as I live, no for as long as my ancestors walk the ground. It will become my legacy. And you will grant this to me or-”

“Done,” the Astral commented, crossing his arms with a grin. “Your wish has been granted.”

“But you—” he paused, sword lowering. “Nothing happened.”

The Astral laughed. “Oh you will see your work tomorrow, king. What your greed has brought upon your people." It laughed again before fading away as the king stared at the spot the Astral was in confusion.

The king, of course, thought nothing of what had happened. He would see what has become of his people with his wish. It wasn’t greedy to be loved. He wanted it expressed to him and him alone. That was not selfish at all.

However, he soon found out his wish for constant praise and love had become a wish of death.

Days went by and nothing appeared to have changed. His subjects still claimed to adore him, and he saw their adoration more clearly than before. The Astral must have kept his word, for on the fourth day, the first of his people was overcome with gardenias sprouting from their throat. They were found in the mud pit a few feet from the castle. The king ignored the sign of obvious magic interference and ruled it as an outsider. The days continued and more similar deaths occured. Flower petals drenched in blood were coughed up, trees and branches began to grow from his people’s throats. His maid had been carrying a tray of his favorite items when she had coughed a large lily petal right onto his tray. Disgusted by her sickness he had her executed in private. He did not wish to capture whatever she had. 

Days passed and his kingdom slowly began to crumble. His sources of medicine, knowledgeable texts, and resources were dwindling. His people were dying. If he did not find a solution soon all would be lost.

Eventually, he swallowed his pride and performed the ritual to call upon the Astral. He repeated it once, twice, and on the third time, he saw the familiar star-like void appear along with the being who had released this curse.

He held his temper upon seeing the being and bit his tongue. He laid his weapon before the Astral and begged forgiveness, to have this curse lifted. The Astral laugher, and laughed, laughed as the king raised his head shaking.

“Foolish king, did you expect all your followers to give their hearts to you.” He chuckled, poking the king in the cheek. “I thought this made you happy. Their death in blood-soaked flowers. Such lovely sacrifices and offerings to such a wonderful king. Perfectly obedient, aren’t they? The dead can’t lie or speak ill of you.”

“You fiend,” he hissed, standing. “This was not my wish! How can you call this a gift?! This is a curse!”

The Astral tilted his head, amused. “A curse you placed on your people. They fear you now,” he whispered. “That’s better than some petty fickle love, isn’t it?”

“I want it removed,” he growled out.

The Astral sighed, bangles clashing. “You see that’s the problem with curses; they have a ripple effect," they say waving their hand in a circle pattern. “They can’t be undone.” He paused, grinning. “Unless…”

“Unless what,” the king begged.

“When darkness is truly defeated and your life is at its end, then perhaps it will be undone.” 

“That’s not soon enough. You want me to kill my entire family?!”

“No!” The Astral sighed, shaking its head. “You are so selfish…stupid question.” The Astral took a moment to compose themselves. “No, darling, you won’t live to see the end of it. But your last heir will be the one to change it for good. Until then, your people will suffer by your folly.”

“No, please, there has to be something else,” he pleads. “This can’t be it.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it is,” the Astral chuckled, backing away. “Little clue—if you confess your feelings quick enough, it does make it go away…unless you develop feelings for someone else again. Well, go back towards your kingdom. Save them,” he teased. “I mean, you have damned all humanity for your foolishness and greed. Explain to them why they are dying and how to cure it before everyone on this star dies, my king.” The Astral bowed, laughing in malicious glee as it faded once more.

The king fell to his knees, hunched over and shaking. How could this happen to him? There was no way this could be resolved! The Astral said so himself. If he confesses to this foolishness, he will surely be hanged. No, he’ll just tell the important part how to subdue the curse. Yes, no one would ever be the wiser about the second part. He would be long gone when it occurs anyway, so what does it matter? He chuckled to himself as he began to stand and walk back to his kingdom with purpose. No one would ever know about his involvement in this curse. No one.


	2. Bellwort

Fire burns around the overturned vehicle sinking into the soft dirt made with spilled blood. The earth moves under the boy barely able to stay conscious as a large snake creature descends on the guards sworn to protect him at all costs. One by one they are slain before him the creature, gurgling its slurred words demanding the king's blood to be washed upon her scales. For the king to pay the price of her lost Chosen.

The older woman, just out of reach of the boy, smiles at him as she struggles to breathe as blood pools around her waist. “Close your eyes Noctis. Close your eyes, it’ll be—”

_ Snap. _

The creature had taken the woman’s body before him and slammed its tail crushing the woman as easy as squeezing a berry to a pulp. The tail is lifted from the ground as the creature hisses, demanding her Chosen to appear. Pieces of the woman’s body fall off like pulverized meat as the creature aims its attention on Noctis.

Noctis struggles to move, fire shooting up his back at the slightest movement. His arms ache as he tries to crawl on the ground legs numb, tingling, completely useless. He fails to stay awake, only catching a glimpse of a sparkling Armiger piercing through the creature’s defensives before it turns black.

* * *

Noctis gasps as he sits up in bed, sweat pouring down his body as he tries to move in bed, only succeeding in tangling himself within the sheets. He falls out of bed with a thud and crawls on the ground, his lower limbs not responding as a maid enters the room, quickly seeing the fallen prince.

“Prince Noctis,” she starts softly as Noctis screams louder, his voice becoming hoarse as he drags himself towards the bedpost, panting, eyes darting in every direction.

“Noctis,” she starts once more as Noctis’ breathing begins to increase in speed. He growls at the maid, lifting his useless limbs closer to him, and watching her every movement.

The maid sits down on the floor as others begin to arrive and enter the room. Noctis' fingers tighten against the wooden bedpost, drawing blood from his pulled nails.

“Noctis, tell us where we are,” the maid on the floor tells him as Noctis stares at the other assistants blocking the door.

“…Room,” he slurs, eyes staring at hers before looking at the others, his heart rate increasing. “Room.”

The maid smiles kindly. “Right. And whose room is it?”

“M—mine,” he answers, hands loosening their grip from the bedpost. “My room…and floor…and bed,” he says, unsure, as the maid encourages him to continue. “…I don’t feel good.” 

He looks down at his nonfunctional legs, reddened and scratched from the fall acting like an animal. He remembers…he always remembers what he doesn’t want to remember. The adrenaline begins to leave his body, slowly calming his breathing. He looks at the crowd of people and bows his head to avoid eye contact.

“Sorry.”

Almost instant there is a murmur of: 

_ “No apologies needed.”  _

_ “Don’t worry about his outburst.”  _

_ “It’s a natural reaction.” _

He wishes the noise would stop and so he keeps his head down, trying to block  _ it _ out. Trying to block out the senseless chatter. It’s because he’s a prince that he is treated so well. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t be spared a second glance. It’s his fault she died. It’s all his fault for being in that car.

“Noctis?” asks the maid from before.

He looks up and notices she’s the only one with him the other must have left or been shooed away. Either way, it is nicer, much quieter than before. He watches her smile as she stays sitting on the floor like she was earlier. He releases his grips from the bedpost and places his hands in the sleeves of his nightgown. He feels sticky and gross. The sweat is already starting to cool and cling to his pajamas.

“Let’s get a nice bath and then we can see Luna today.”

Noctis frowns and shakes his head.

“Oh, and why not?” she asks. “She does like to see you and help you. It’ll be a snap to get you ready.”

Noctis rubs his nose, “I’m scared.” The maid says nothing and lets him continue. “Suki, she—” he starts trembling. “I saw her again,” he says, voice breaking. “It’s my fault. I killed her. I killed her,” he says it like a mantra as the maid crawls over, holding him in her arms as she rocks him back and forth.

“You didn’t do anything wrong," she says, her own voice becoming thick. “You didn’t kill her…that—that snake creature did.” She rubs his back. “Now, then, I think enough tears have been shed today, don’t you?”

Noctis sniffled and rubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. It’s good to let it out but we can’t waste the day crying, can we?”

He shakes his head.

“Hmm, can’t have fun with tears,” she says, wiping his eyes. “Unless, of course, they are happy tears." She smiles at him.

Noctis looks at her, confused. “How can tears be happy?”

“Well, lots of ways,” she starts as she begins to lift him back into bed with ease. “Now, let’s see…oh, finding something precious you thought was lost is one way or something wonderful happening that makes you feel so much you have to cry in joy or finding your Chosen could bring tears to the eyes as well,” she says getting the shower chair ready for him. “Tears aren’t a sign of weakness, just a sign of your emotions feeling so strongly they can’t be held in.” She places the wheelchair by Noctis' bed. “Now, then, try scooting along like the doctor said. I’ve seen you do it before." She grins.

Noctis pouts. "But you could put me in there quicker.”

“Oh, yes I could, but then how would you regain your strength? Now come along, you can do it,” she says, watching as Noctis grumbles and slides off the bed slowly and carefully before plopping himself in the chair, glaring at his legs.

“Amirya, do you think my legs will get better?”

“Hmm… I’m not sure, but I know Lady Lunafreya is the best Oracle of this age. So, I do not doubt her powers, but if it does begin to look bleak, you can be strong, Noctis. Why, you moved into your chair all by yourself. You couldn’t do it before; that’s a big step,” she says wheeling him down the hallway towards the shower.

“I guess so…Amirya, do you think.” He pauses before continuing. “Do you think Suki would be happy I made it?”

“Of course she would,” she says, rubbing his back. “Don’t feel guilt over her sacrifice. Now, let’s hurry so you can spend some time with your friend.”

"Okay."

* * *

Spending time with Luna is weird. And weird is a nice way of wording it. She's both his healer and friend. However, her duties as Oracle always come first before their friendship. He knows why it has to be this way; it's the same with his duties as prince, which were admittedly less these days due to the incident. Still, it was a shock hearing the Oracle curse in front of him for simply stubbing her toe.

It was refreshing to see Lunafreya as just Luna in those moments. In those moments, she could relax, he could try to be who he was before the incident.

He feels a cool finger touch the top of his head and sighs, seeing Luna’s blonde hair tied up on top of her head. “I can hear you thinking so loudly.”

“Y—you can?”

She giggles. “Of course not. But I can see something is troubling you today,” she says, looking down at him. “Did something happen?”

Noctis looks at her, shifting in the wheelchair. “Nightmare…it wasn’t too bad.”

Luna frowns and holds his hand. “That is one thing I don’t have the power to heal. Only you can do it Noctis.”

“I—I know,” he says as he looks away.

They hear claws tap on the wooden floor, and Luna’s eyes sparkle. “Pryna! You’re back,” she says excitedly, picking up the small messenger. “Noctis, Pryna makes everything better…well, almost everything. Would you like to hold her?" she asks, holding out the tiny whimpering pup.

“She’s so tiny,” he says as the dog is placed in his lap.

Luna nods her head. “Gentiana helped make her. She’s not a normal dog but a Messenger,” she says as Noctis scratches Pryna’s head, smiling. “She said she’ll be small for some time. Might not even start growing until next year, but I don’t care because she’s so cute like this. Isn’t she?”

Noctis gives Pryna a smile. “Yeah, she is cute,” he agrees before Pryna sticks out her tongue while sleeping, and Noctis gasps quietly as Luna leans around to see the sleeping pup.

“Aww, she has chosen you,” she giggles as Noctis nods his head, smile falling from his face.

“Luna, can you cry tears of joy?" he asks suddenly. “I know it sounds weird but that could happen, right?”

Luna looks at the open door and pushes Noctis further in the room, his back towards the door as she sits on her bed. “Why are you asking?”

Noctis blushes. "Well, Amirya…she was explaining happy tears, and it could be any happy moment, and right now I’m feeling like I’m going to cry. But I’m not, so it’s good, right?”

Luna taps her chin. “I think so. If you feel happy you should express being happy,” she says, laying on her bed.

Noctis smiles, tearing up. “Y—yeah well I’m happy…right now,” he says, unable to move since Pryna is now stretched out on her back in his lap. “Amirya also said you cry when you meet your Chosen, but I don’t know why you would. It sounds stupid.”

Luna sighs, closing her eyes. "Well, I’m never going to have one.”

“Huh, why not?” he asks, looking at her.

“Oracles have to marry who gets chosen for them, so it may not be my Chosen at all.”

“…That’s stupid.”

Luna laughs, almost snorting. “It is, but it’s been a tradition since…well, since forever, I guess. Gentiana says it won’t be bad but what if it's some weird person who eats toenails,” she says, making a face.

“Maybe it’ll be someone with warts all over their body and you heal it and see that it was really a frog all along,” he chuckles, earning himself a pillow to the head.

“That’s not nice,” she says, laughing as one of the maids eavesdrops on them.

“No, but you can’t worry about it,” he says seeing Luna sigh. “And if it happens then I’ll rescue you. I’ll marry you first,” he grins. "Then you won’t need to marry a frog.”

“A true prince charming,” she says dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. The nosey maid meanwhile had left excited with the news. Surely the king and queen should hear about such a development. It could unit both kingdoms!

Noctis could no longer hold in his emotions and bursts out laughing along with Luna. “Don’t worry, Luna, you don’t have to worry about it for like a long time. By then my legs will be better and I can fight them off or…or something,” he shrugs as Pryna yawns in his lap.

“Maybe,” she says, sitting up. “I think…I think you’re doing well, Noctis. I feel it getting better and I don’t know how to explain it, but I know you can do this,” she explains, looking down at her hands. “My healing can only do so much—you have to do the rest.”

Noctis nods his head. “I guess, but when I get better, we have to play.”

“But we do?”

“No, for real. Like chasing you with hide and seek and, I don’t know, other games,” he says, glowing with excitement over the idea of it.

“Alright, I promise. When you get well enough, we will play hide and seek,” she says, holding out her pinky. Noctis looks down at it, confused. “Oh, we have to link pinkies, so it won’t ever be broken.”

Noctis smiles and links his pinky with hers. He promises he won’t break this vow.

* * *

Weeks pass slowly as Noctis continues to gain his strength and heal from Luna’s powers. The terrors still came every night, but he was getting used to them. He has to be strong for Luna, for himself. No one wants a king that cries or becomes immobile simply from a bad memory. He wants to get stronger and, like Luna said, he can feel it.

It’s early in the morning when he begins to feel pain in his legs. It travels towards his hip and throbs. It feels like his muscles are tightening and twisting into odd shapes that will never be undone. He quickly removes his sheets and sees his toe is pointing down. It hasn’t moved since his accident. He winces, feeling the spasm come on and rake against his lower back, making his arms jerk and twitch from the sudden pain.

His toe moves and he has to blink in bewilderment. He stares at his foot, hoping it is not some terrible nerve spasm. He rubs his nose before staring at his toes and making them move down briefly.

They moved!

He yells for help, not believing his own eyes as he continues to move his toes on his own. The maid rushes in prepared for the worst and sees Noctis in bed staring at his feet.

“Look! It moves!” He laughs wiggling his toes as the maid lets out a sigh of relief holding a hand to her chest.

“Yes, toes move…wait they moved,” she exclaims, watching as Noctis moves his toes for the first time in months. She runs out of the room, prepared to notify the king of the development. Of course, it is late in the evening but it is important. He has to know about this progress.

After that eventful night, it’s slow progress from moving toes to unbalanced steps, to strengthening exercises. Eventually, Noctis can walk a few steps before getting weak and resorting to the wheelchair. It’s progress, and it's something Noctis and Luna are proud of.

Noctis is using his arms to wheel the chair as he follows Luna down the hallway. “…and today I made more steps than yesterday. Though the guy with the spiky hair is still mean. My legs feel so tired."

Luna chuckles, “Noctis you know his name.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna use it because he’s mean." He pouts. “I mean, I don’t think lifting a weight with one leg fifty times is helpful. It hurts.”

Luna sighs. "Well it does make your leg stronger meaning you get to walk more, right? And if it hurts, I can always heal it.”

Noctis shakes his head, stopping the chair. “No way. I gotta get stronger and he said pain is power,” he says, lowering his voice at the end as much as he could.

Luna snorts. "Yes well if you need it, I can help.”

“I know you can Luna, 'cause you’re the best Oracle.”

“I’m the only Oracle.”

“Which makes you the best." He grins as Luna smiles.

“I guess it does,” she smiles. “So, I think we should rest under the balcony today. The hammock is there and feels good on your back.”

Noctis sighs. “I know but I wanna play hide and seek.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow,” she says getting behind his wheelchair. “Come on, it’ll be fun and give me an excuse to skip my lessons for today.” She beams at the thought.

“Why do you want to skip your lessons so much? Don’t you want to be a good oracle?” he teases as she pushes him faster towards the hammock.

“I am a good one. I don’t…I don’t like all my lessons. Fredrick is—well, he is intelligent but…"

“He sounds like paint drying.” Noctis grins as Luna blushes, looking away. “Why are you embarrassed? You said it.”

“Yes, but it’s not proper or nice,” she frowns, letting go of his wheelchair so he can adjust himself enough. “Can you manage?”

Noctis shrugs and forces himself upon shaking legs as he slowly walks towards the hammock and sits on it before leaning back sighing. “I’m good, but a story would be good too now.” He feels Luna lay down by him and sigh.

“Hmm alright, so a good story… Oh, one of the maids got her flowers today. She’s been pinning over one of our guards for ages and she spluttered them down her top when she met him outside today. It was violets, or it looked like them at least. He, of course, was surprised by the flowers, but he didn’t reject the maid,” she sighs. “It was so…well, I don’t know. Charming, I guess? And cute.”

Noctis sighs. “So she met her Chosen. That’s great, but I don’t like love stories.”

Luna pouts. “Well I thought it was a good one.”

“Huh. It is Luna but…” He rubs his head. “I don’t know, it’s scary.” He grimaces as she looks at him. “You start spitting up petals, whole flowers or vines only when you start pining after someone and if they reject you…you either die or get the surgery and feel nothing for them. I don’t think I ever want to meet mine. What if they’re horrible or not even royalty? That would be terrible.”

“So, you would reject them?”

“No…I guess I’d learn to like them,” he frowns, “I don’t want anyone else dying because of me or because they need to protect me. But that’s not gonna be for a long time.” He leans his head back as the hammock rocks back and forth.

“Me too…even if they were as boring as Fredrick, I still wouldn’t want them to die because of me,” she sighs. “But that’s when you’ll save the day.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” she laughs. “The Chosen One will break the flower curse somehow and that’s you or so the Astrals have said.”

“Really?” He asks, thinking. “Then maybe…maybe I won’t ever meet my Chosen and they won’t get hurt if I break the curse quickly, right, Luna?”

“Well I suppose but that’s why you have to get stronger,” she says, poking him in his side.

Noctis giggles. “You too,” he says, poking her back. "You gotta get strong too Luna and we’ll both break its promise.”

* * *

Not even a day has passed from their conversation and already Noctis has broken his promise. Niflheim had been encroaching on Tenebrae for the past few weeks, silently waiting for the right time. The right time came when the queen, Luna’s mother, was distracted. MT’s infiltrated the royal castle killing all who opposed in their wake. Ravus, Luna’s older brother was in the throne room when his mother was killed in front of his eyes. Burned alive protecting her son from the flames. His anger clouded his judgment and he began attacking all who entered. His rage could not be controlled as the fires burned around the room.

In all his rage he forgot about his unprotected sister until it was too late. He was rendered unconscious by a blow to the head as one of the Niffheilm’s associates gathered the lanky boy in their arms and slung them over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Ravus Nox Fleuret was captured by the Empire.

The only fortunate event that day was that Luna was with Noctis when his father, King Regis, tried to escape with both of them. Noctis was in his arms, legs too weak to run and Luna was gripping his hand as they ran through the back part of the forest of her former home.

Luna tried to keep up, stumbling over the ground as Regis tugged her along while keeping Noctis in his arms. The screeching of the MT is the only warning the three get as one rushes from behind the trees, swinging blades at the King of Lucis.

Regis dodged the blows, pushing Lunafreya behind him as he called upon his Armiger and destroyed the MT with ease. He looked behind him and saw Lunafreya shaking. No words of comfort are spoken. There was not enough time as he grabbed her hand and began running with his son through the forest once more. Luna kept pace as best as she could and looked over her shoulder, frowning.

More MTs were appearing and gaining on the three of them. It was too much weight to deal with there—only one option was left. She released her hold on Regis and stepped back as he paused in his jog. She didn’t speak any words to him and only stepped further away when he tried to grab for her again. Regis looks at her, and then towards the approaching MTs, before abandoning Luna in the forest.

Noctis witnessed the action and screamed, words not able to form from his lips. His friend, his only true friend had been left behind to protect him. He, who couldn't even run or move. He, who didn't have a purpose in being saved. He screamed as his voice became raw. The MTs and Luna began to fade from view as his father ran as fast as he could, carrying him in his arms. The last image of Luna he saw was a group of MTs gathering behind her as they led her back to her burning home.

His father wrapped with his son in his arms, removing himself from the dire situation. His only concern is getting his son home safe and sound. He can plan on helping Tenebrae later. Like most father’s there would be no point in helping Tenebrae if his son was not there to see it. He could only hope Noctis will forgive him.


	3. Black Eyed Susan

It’s been three months since Noctis has spoken a word. Three months of silence, of taking his son to the doctors to find out why he can no longer speak. It was psychological; there is no easy cure for what his son had experienced, nothing that can bring forth his voice if he does not wish to speak. His physical health is better; there is nothing wrong with his vocal cords or throat. It is merely his mind not allowing him to speak.

Noctis sits quietly at the table, pushing the tomato around his plate, bored. He scrunches his nose at the vegetable and knocks it off the plate with his fork as it rolls across the white tablecloth. He hears his father set down his silverware and glances across the room.

“Noctis,” he starts softly. “If you don’t want it leave it on your plate, not on the table.”

Noctis blinks at his father before staring back down at his plate, scraping the fork back and forth across the plate. The noise is irritating and squeaks loudly like grating glass. His father only sighs as his son continues the action using the sound as a way to block out what he can’t say, what his body won’t allow him to say.

He scraps the fork against the plate in uneven strokes gradually moving faster and faster. The noise reverberates off the walls as Noctis loses his train of thought and continues the soothing action.

“ — ctis…Noctis,” his father says louder, drawing Noctis from his trance. Noctis flinches and looks over at his father.

“Perhaps you should rest more.”

Noctis’ fork clatters on the plate as he sucks in a deep breath and holds it in. His hands ball into a fist and release, gradually, back and forth. He waits for the emotion to pass. Waits for what feels like an eternity before someone clearing their throat distracts him.

“Come, Noctis, let’s enjoy that game,” states Ignis, standing within Noctis' view. He does not reach out to touch him, learning from the last time the prince is no longer at that peace of mind. Noctis says nothing, merely nods his head and pushes the chair across the floor before standing. He looks towards his father's lips, tight and pinched together before looking away and walking in front of Ignis.

Ignis adjusts his glasses and makes a quick bow before beginning to follow after Noctis. Regis lets out a sigh once both boys are gone and leans his hand against his head.

“What am I going to do?” he sighs.

* * *

Ignis catches up to Noctis easily. Noctis can only manage walking for a short distance before the limp becomes visible.

Ignis watches as Noctis begins to drag his left leg before trying to straighten his spine and continue walking. Ignis gulps and walks by Noctis. “Noctis,” he says as the prince halts in his step and looks up at him. “Are you alright walking?”

Noctis snorts and rolls his eyes before continuing to walk in front of Ignis. He pauses, turning around and waving his hand for Ignis to follow. Ignis does as instructed as the prince leads him towards a different room. His father’s study.

Ignis had only been inside the room a few times, mostly because of his uncle meeting the king, but never on his own. Noctis taps Ignis on the elbow and draws his attention towards the bookshelf.

“You want me to grab you a book?” he asks confused as Noctis shakes his head.

Instead, the young prince searches the shelf before letting out a puff of air in victory. He reaches for the book on the lower shelf and opens it revealing a box, one shaped as a book. He places it in front of Ignis and opens it in front of him.

Inside are various papers, pictures, plastic figurines, and other trinkets related to a young boy. Noctis digs in the box, shuffling the papers around until he finds one, old and worn, and hands it to Ignis. Ignis looks at the crinkled paper and straightens it out revealing a picture of a creature that looks like a fennec fox with a single horn coming from its head. Of course, the drawing is uneven, and the lines don’t match or come together perfectly but he recognizes the creature. He looks at the paper once more and then Noctis.

“Did…Did you see this recently?”

Noctis looks away from Ignis, rocking on the balls of his feet.

The answer worries him. The creature is not a malicious creature by nature, more mischievous than anything. Its name is Carbuncle and it was a guardian that protected Noctis. Where it was when the snake daemon attacked, they’ll never know, but it must have been somewhere more important than protecting Noctis. Ignis pushes his glasses up his nose as Noctis stares at him.

“Well, if you did see them, I don’t think you have anything to fear,” he starts as Noctis blinks at him. “Carbuncle only wishes to help in whatever form they can help.”

Noctis continues to blink at him, biting his lower lip.

“I won’t bring it up to your father if you are worried,” he sighs as Noctis nods his head. “Carbuncle helps with dreams. Perhaps he feels bad about what happened and wants to give you good dreams? Who knows but if you are seeing Carbuncle you have nothing to fear from it. Perhaps they want to help in regaining your voice?”

Noctis shrugs.

“Well, it might be a possibility. It must be frustrating not being able to speak when you really want to.”

Noctis rubs his nose and looks away.

Ignis frowns, “I’m not saying it is bad,” he says flustered. “Just different and well—I’m not sure. When you are ready to talk you will. I’m certain of it.”

Noctis grabs Ignis’ hand in the middle of his tangent and nods his head seriously.

“Is that a determined look to gain your voice back?”

Noctis huffs and nods his head once more, eyes not blinking.

“Very well. I hope you succeed,” he says as Noctis releases Ignis from his grip. “Hm, let’s put this away before your father finds it,” he smiles earning a quick nod from Noctis who returns the scribbled papers and trinkets in the box haphazardly, making the box unable to close. Ignis sighs. “Well, it needs to be a tad bit neater,” he says, fixing the box quickly before placing it back in its rightful spot.

Noctis shrugs and walks towards the door before looking behind him motioning for Ignis to follow him. Ignis smiles and follows the prince, making sure to stay by his side as they head for his room.

Later that night, after Noctis had been tucked in bed and all were asleep, he felt the tingling starting at the tip of his nose. It’s more of a tickle from a feather but it’s not uncomfortable, nor does it wake him. It’s more of just an alarm waking him in his dream.

His eyes open suddenly as he looks up at the blank sky that is neither blue nor black; it just swirls multitudes of pastel colors across the fake sky. Noctis sits up slowly, feeling the grass beneath his fingertips when he was just in his bed. He looks down and notices his pajamas are gone and he is in his clothes from this morning. He stands up slowly, eyes widening as he moves.

It doesn’t hurt to walk. He doesn’t feel a tinge or shock from his hip to his toe when he first wakes up. This has to be something strange maybe he’s dreaming.

“You  _ are _ dreaming,” squeaks a voice.

Noctis startles, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he turns around, looking for anyone in the tall grass. He doesn’t spot anyone and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’m down here.” He hears the squeak once more and looks down at his feet, noticing the large ears before seeing the green eyes of the white fox. He stares at the red horn and backs away.

“Don’t be scared. I’m Carbuncle.”

“Carbuncle,” says Noctis before covering his mouth. “I…I.”

Carbuncle jumps to Noctis' shoulder. “You can speak here.”

“How?” he asks, rubbing his throat.

“You’re sleeping; it takes your mind more energy to make you stop from speaking than to let it happen in dreams,” they say, tail flicking behind Noctis' shoulder. “But we don’t have a lot of time to waste. We need to get you stronger.”

Carbuncle jumps down from Noctis and begins to walk through the long grass tail raised. Noctis follows after the creature, confused.

“Stronger?”

“Yes, being able to talk and move here is easier, but you need to be able to do so in the real world. Not just here,” they say as the grass begins to flake and disappear the further they walk. Noctis looks behind him and sees the long grass disappearing before his sight and runs up to Carbuncle.

“It’s disappearing!”

Carbuncle looks back and nods their head. “It’s your past, it's supposed to. Don’t worry, it’ll get stored somewhere else.” Noctis frowns, watching the landscape disappear and follow after Carbuncle as the world begins to change shape and color all at once. It forms into something that looks like his home, but it can’t be his home.

“How—” he starts looking at Carbuncle.

“I don’t understand the question.”

Noctis shakes his head and sighs instead “So this place is real?”

“As real as it can be,” Carbuncle states, then pauses. “This is a place of your own making and can be amazing but,” they say, stopping. “It also contains your memories.” Noctis winces. “Some memories that you are trying to ignore or have been ignoring in your waking life.” 

A rumble is heard in the distance that alerts both of them. In the distance a blue glowing orb hums to life. It rises from nothingness and hangs itself in the middle of the sky out in the distance. Carbuncle frowns at the display. “Those are your memories. Your destiny to come. They contain a lot of power but also sorrow.”

“Do I have to confront them now, then?” 

Carbuncle squeaks. “Not now, but you will have to confront them eventually. You can’t stay stuck in the past when everything is continuing to move, can you?” 

Noctis shrugs as the grass beneath his shoes begin to disappear and turn into sand. He moves back and the sand follows him. He looks to Carbuncle for help. 

“Don’t worry. Don’t get scared, it’s…well, I guess the best way to explain it, is that human emotions are an important part of being here.” Noctis looks at them, confused, and then at growing sand. It reaches his knees now.

“The more you struggle to fight your emotions, or the more sad or upset you get, the worse it becomes, so just try to breathe. We’re not going to face your past just yet. It’s supposed to be fun today.”

Noctis nods his head gradually as the sand begins to simmer down, only licking up towards his ankles. 

“It’s not gone.”

“It won’t be…not even when you confront what bothers you it will still be there. Just smaller and easier to handle.” Carbuncle squeaks in excitement. “Come on, try to think of something good.”

“Anything?” 

“Yes, anything that makes you feel good. Just imagine it.” 

“Hmm.” 

Noctis scratches his head, thinking of anything that makes him happy. Not much did anymore. Ever since Luna…he shakes his head feeling the sand nip at his calves. He turns his thoughts elsewhere and thinks of what had made him happy. 

He blinks and before he knows it a fishing pier and lake have appeared. Right before his eyes. It expands outwards far and wide. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. It’s strange though; the pier looks like a normal pier but it’s not right. Something is off and he can’t figure it out. 

“Carbuncle, it—it looks wrong?”

“Hmm, well it does take some practice,” they say as the land begins to grow around the pier and the body of water has something to hold itself in instead of just floating above the ground. 

Noctis gasps as Carbuncle squeaks. “You’ll be able to do more, the more you come here.” 

Noctis rushes to the pier and looks around. “Hey, where’s a fishing pole?” 

“Have you imagined one yet?” 

“Oh,” he says before looking towards the right, seeing a replica of his fishing pole in the real world. He grabs it and begins to fiddle with the line and baits. Carbuncle sits by Noctis' side as Noctis pulls back the pole and swings it out towards the lake line flying through the air and landing with a plop in the lake.

Noctis swings his legs out over the pier and sighs. “Carbuncle, how long do I have to stay here?” 

Carbuncle frowns. “You do not have to stay here. You can dream anywhere, but I have been tasked with helping you.” 

“You mean speaking again.” He winces. 

“Yes, among other things.” Carbuncle watches Noctis reel in the line slowly. “You have a very dangerous journey ahead of you in the future. You need all the resources you can get—” 

“Wouldn’t have to,” he clips out. “Niflheim started it. They did everything and took Luna away for no reason,” he says as the lake begins to bubble and shake. “It’s all their fault. Why do I need to do it?”

“Noctis,” Carbuncle says softly.

“No, it’s not fair. I was supposed to protect Luna ‘cause I’m the Chosen,” he cries, rubbing his eyes. “I couldn’t do it and she got hurt and I can’t see her anymore. All because of Niflheim.” 

Carbuncle listens to Noctis as he trembles, body shaking, and he accidentally drops the fishing pole in the lake. Noctis hugs his knees to his chest and hides his face from Carbuncle as he cries. “I should have been stronger.” 

Carbuncle rubs their cheek against Noctis’ leg like a cat. “No one can change the past. You can only learn from it.” He pokes his head into the opening of the bent knees and looks at Noctis. “Niflheim is not the only one to blame. There is more than I can tell you right now.”

“So, if Niflheim isn’t doing it…who did?”

“I don’t know,” they state as Noctis begins to relax. “I only know they are not the only ones involved. But that is a worry for another day. This night was supposed to just be about exploring this world.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” he asks worriedly.

“You are about to wake up soon. Don’t worry we’ll meet again in your dreams, Noctis,” they squeak before the world begins to blur, turning dark then bright all at once. 

“Noctis,” says Ignis as he gently rouses the young prince from slumber. “It’s time for your lessons.” 

Noctis flinches suddenly and winces, feeling the pain in his back travel down his legs. He gently logs rolls in bed before sitting up using one of his arms for support to sit up straight. He rubs his head and looks at Ignis.

The boy is only two years older than him, yet he looks like a mini stern tutor. Glasses fixed in place, crisp shirt and slacks accompanied by suspenders and an overcoat with matching gloves. He looks like an adult, only shorter. 

“Noctis,” Ignis asks, placing a hand on his head. “Are you feeling well?”

Noctis opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes forth. He tries to speak only hearing soft grunts and air pass through his lips. He nods towards Ignis and frowns.

“Well, you don’t have a fever,” Ignis says, removing his hand. “And you did try to speak more this morning. That is an improvement, at least.”

Noctis nods his head mutely before staring up at Ignis. He could tell Ignis about his encounter with Carbuncle, could mention his escape into the dreamland where he was perfect, where he could move freely, feel no pain, and talk! But he wonders if Ignis would worry or worse tell his father. It has to be strange, visiting Carbuncle in a made-up world where he can be free and yet here, he’s so limited. It’s better just to keep the secret for himself.

“Noctis?”

Noctis just offers Ignis a smile before pointing at his closet. He won’t make him worry about him. Ignis might be a bought friend but he’s a friend that he does not wish to trouble with this issue. He’s already a burden now, unable to speak, barely able to walk more than a short distance without needing assistance.

* * *

The months move slowly throughout the year. Noctis gradually begins walking longer distances, eventually able to jog a short distance before stopping to rest. He’s improving, just slowly. His lessons continue with a private tutor, one that he dislikes immensely. He does not enjoy those lessons at all. Ignis would be a better tutor than the one he is forced to attend. He says as much one day to the tutor. He speaks it slowly and with clear diction that Ignis, while younger than the tutor, could teach him better than a stubborn old tutor with memory lapses could. Of course, this verbal outburst goes punished by the said tutor but Noctis stands by what he said; Ignis could run circles around this tutor with his eyes closed.

Ignis sighs, seeing Noctis grin as he leaves his latest tutor session. “You can’t keep doing this Noctis.”

“W-why not,” he asks, grinning. “It’s true.” The words feel heavy in his mouth even as he says them. It’s annoying but his voice is coming back gradually.

If only he could stop the stutter. Ignis says it will take time but he’s tired of waiting. This world feels restricting, closed off, and uncomfortable. It’s why he tries to sleep as often as he can. Of course, his old injury bothers him, and only laying still will make the pain less, but sleeping allows him to enter his dreamland. In it, he can talk perfectly. He can move how he wants, create what he wants, and enjoys it more than his waking life. It would be nice if he could permanently sleep but Carbuncle had warned him about asking for such a thing lest it becomes true. He doesn’t understand the fox sometimes, but he is wise so at the moment Noctis listens to him and tries to stay awake in his world. It’s just become more difficult to listen to Carbuncle lately. 

“Hmm, you seem to be thinking of something,” says Ignis, adjusting his gloves before forcing his arms to remain still by his side. 

“I’m alwa-ys think-ing,” he says looking up at Ignis. 

Ignis hasn’t looked well the last few days, which is strange. Ignis is always perfect or at least tries to be. He’s no longer slightly taller than Noctis; he’s all stretched thin limbs at odd lengths with his body, cheeks, and chin covered in red spots. The spots have been coming more frequently than before. Maybe that’s why Ignis has begun to wear gloves—he said something about not touching the face with greasy hands, which is a strange comment to make. Ignis hands are smooth, just a little larger is all.

Ignis sighs. “Noctis, are you ready for your lesson with Gladio?”

“Yeah…I guess,” he says, watching Ignis make a slight twitch of his eyebrows. “You gonna be there too?”

“Well, I feel this is one of your private one-on-one sessions with him,” he says, the sound of his voice squeaking by the ‘cause of changing hormones.

“Yeah, but you are al-ways there in case he does some-thing stupid or m-mean,” he says as he watches Ignis clear his throat.

“Well, you are no longer a child, Noctis. I am sure you can handle Gladio by yourself,” he says, walking by his side. “Besides, after today's lesson with your tutor, I think today will be their last day. Your father mentioned wanting you to expand your horizon soon.”

Noctis stops suddenly and looks up at him. “What’s that mean?” 

“Well,” he starts, “I suppose starting school.” Noctis freezes. “He wants you to enjoy a normal childhood.” 

“N-normal,” he laughs. “Nothing has been,” he starts, before his lips stop moving. He shakes his head. He takes a moment to calm himself, pacing as Ignis watches. Astrals, it must be so embarrassing for Ignis to watch him become like this. He reverts so quickly, and his father expects him to…it won’t work. He knows it won’t work.

“Noctis,” Ignis starts, “I am sorry, but I can do nothing to change it.”

“Y-you can,” he pushes out from clenched teeth. “D-don’t…” He can’t get the words. The simple words won't leave his lips.

“Don’t need anyone else.” He’ll be fine with just Gladio and Ignis. They’re a little older but they’re his friends…sort of. He’ll even be nice to the tutor. He’ll agree with them too; he just doesn’t want to go to school. A real school will be a disaster.

“Noctis,” he says, placing his hand on his shoulder. Noctis shrugs his hands off. 

“Why,” he manages to get out, throat feeling thick. 

“He wants you to experience the outside world, not just the Citadel." He frowns. “I tried to advise against it. You could get hurt. That’s what happened last time when you ventured out before. I should have known better than—” he stops before pushing his glasses up his nose. “Fortunately, you will be able to come back to the Citadel. I will see to it that you are picked up on time and wait for you.”

Noctis winces. “That snake…the in-incident,” he starts, clenching his hands. “Not fault.”

“Noctis…”

“No!" he shouts staring into Ignis eyes. “Not, fault.” He takes a few breaths, trying to calm his racing heart as Ignis stands stiffly in front of him. He unclenches his hands and pats Ignis on the back.

“You…you’re good, Ignis. P-Please bel-ieve that.”

Ignis lifts the corner of his lips and gives a small nod. "Thank you, Noctis.” Noctis huffs and looks away as Ignis clears his throat. “Gladio is not patient; shall we?” He gestures towards the training room down the hallway.

Noctis nods his head as Ignis walks by his side. He’s not sure if he would have come to practice after what Ignis has told him. Maybe that’s why he told him before practice so he can work it off with Gladio? Or maybe Ignis was using it as a distraction for his training with Gladio. He had mentioned emotions not having a place on the battlefield. 

* * *

Noctis grunts, sliding on the ground as Gladio raises the wooden sword above him. He rolls quickly, trying to dodge the weapon.

“Come on, princess, that’s too slow,” he says before Noctis blocks his next attack as he squats on the ground, trying to cover his vital organs. He pushes against Gladio’s sword, not able to shove him away. Instead, he redirects it to the left—a spot where only his leg is bent and trying to stand before the blade can touch him. 

The wooden sword slams against his calf as he moves up dodging the next attack. 

“You just lost your leg. Come on, you can do better than this!" Gladio yells, thrusting the sword and clashing it against Noctis' until he’s able to disarm him easily. Noctis jumps back from him as Gladio approaches like a predator. He rolls under him and grabs his sword, standing up before dropping it suddenly. That was not a good move to pull on his back. He feels the muscles clenching from down from his arm towards his lower back. 

“Fuck,” Gladio says before stopping. “Noctis, are you alright?” 

“I,” he pants, feeling the sudden spasms beginning to lesson and just feel sore. “I’m done.” 

Gladio snorts. “If you can move you ain’t done. Let’s go again,” he says picking up the wooden sword.

Noctis shakes his head, “I can’t,” he says, holding his arm tightly. 

“You won’t have this option out in the wild,” he growls. 

“No, you’ll be my shi-eld and pro-tect me, won’t y-ou.” 

Gladio tsks and runs a hand over his short hair. “And if I’m not there?” 

“I’ll warp…gonna learn that ev-even-tually,” he replies, holding his side. 

“You might not have magic then what,” he asks, swinging the sword at Noctis to block. Noctis moves back quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet. He dodges the second hit and keeps backing away until he can’t anymore. Ignis is shouting at Gladio to stop but Gladio is in the battle haze. He swings the wooden blade down right across Noctis' upper arm. Noctis screams, breaking Gladio’s trance of fighting. He pulls back stunned before feeling heat encircling him. The ground shakes and a large boom echoes in the training room. Gladio feels the wave of fire lift him from the ground and toss him back. 

He barely has the energy to stand up, but he knows who threw that magic fire at him. Ignis is pissed and he has a right to be. He sits up, generally feeling like shit as he rubs at his arms. The fire had burned all of his hair off. Blisters are already formed on his reddened skin. He’s lucky it’s only minimal damage and not deadly damage. 

Ignis is kneeling by Noctis, breaking a healing potion over the broken arm when he manages to look over. Noctis clenches his teeth, feeling the bones mend beneath the skin and muscles ache. His arm feels warm from the tension. 

“Do you need another one?” Ignis asks, checking over Noctis worriedly. “I should have intervened sooner.” 

“Ignis,” Noctis says breathlessly. “Thanks…Gladio just went rough. If I can’t handle this, then I won’t be able to handle a real daemon…I’m weak. I need to get stronger,” he says emotionlessly. “I always need to be stronger."

“Noctis?" Ignis asks, holding him by the shoulder. Noctis doesn’t respond, just stares off blankly repeating the phrase of getting stronger. Ignis twisted his lips in worry before resting Noctis against one of the mats for support. He quickly turns on his heel and approaches Gladio, who is wincing as he stands. His shirt had been melted into his skin. It burns, but the stare Ignis is giving him is much worse. 

“You went too far,” he says, rage barely being held back by his teeth. “He’s only eleven, Gladio!” 

Gladio winces and looks away. “He needs it, Ignis,” he says, trying to remove the blame before Ignis green eyes bore into his own. Well, shit. “Alright, I went too far but a potion and he’s good as new,” he starts before he feels Ignis punch his burnt chest. 

“The potion won’t work on that,” he hisses, pointing at the emotionless Noctis. “He’s gone. You know what happens when he has one of these moods.”

Gladio curses. “How was I to know?” he demands as Ignis glares up at him.

“He’s a child. Too much pressure is on his shoulders—” 

“So, it’s alright for him to not be pressured but good enough for us,” he sneers. “Wake the fuck up, Specs; you and I didn’t get a choice in this and neither did he. He needs to suck it up and beat something already. Fuck be a normal kid.”

Ignis feels the tension slowly leave his body. “A normal kid? Gladio, nothing of him is normal due to no fault of his own. We are his protectors, his guidance, and you lost control,” he snaps. “You almost killed him because you were so focused on winning.”

Gladio winces as he moves. “Fine, Ignis, you're right. Is that what you want to hear?!” 

“No.”

Gladio rolls his eyes. “You’re so infuriating. I fucked up, I’ll admit it. I lost control but hey,” he whispers, eyes narrowed maliciously. “At least I didn’t give him shitty news before he came to train with me.”

Ignis flushes. “Didn’t think dumb Gladio would hear it, did you. Talk about mind fucking someone before a match. You wanted to see what would happen. You’re tricky in your training. So, if you’re going to scold me like I’m a big monster then you better take a look in the mirror,” He sneers, moving past Ignis and heading for the door. “I’m getting a potion since I’m not worthy of one from the mighty Ignis."

“Gladio."

“No, just fuck off, Ignis. You’ve already made me feel like shit,” he says walking past Noctis. He looks down at the kid in a trance and clicks his tongue before patting Noctis on the head. “I’m sorry. I only want you to be strong and you’re stronger than I think, Noctis. Just snap out of it before Specs eats me alive alright,” he says earning no other response from Noctis. He curses before getting ready to leave the training room when he feels the back of his hair stands on edge. Something bad is coming.

He turns around and sees Ignis backing away from Noctis. Gladio swears under his breath, rushing back towards Noctis. 

“Don’t touch him!” Ignis shouts, feeling the air blow around them in the enclosed training room. 

“What, let him have a meltdown with the Astrals for fun?” he says, kneeling by Noctis' side as the boy shakes. Noctis looks up at his eyes, glowing pink. He ignores it and holds Noctis tight as the boy fidgets and moves in his arms, thrashing so wildly that Gladio can barely hold him down as the fit happens. 

“You’re hurting him!" Ignis shouts, pulling on Gladio’s shoulder. 

“Well, then try calming him down! Strategize or whatever!” he yells back as Noctis squirms in his arms, trying to get free. “You’re good at it, so do something!”

Ignis bites his lip, unsure of what to do. There is nothing he can do to stop this diminish the effects; he can't do anything to stop the storm about to happen. Noctis can’t summon the gods—he can’t bring their power down on this training area, but he can bring a storm to follow when he's lost in his own head. Ignis struggles to think of what to do and only holds Noctis' hand as it tries to get out of Ignis’ grip.

“Noctis, you are safe…we are all safe, no one is harmed,” he says before repeating the words over and over and over. Gradually, the storm begins to pass, Noctis’ eyes begin to return to their normal blue as he blinks a few times. He looks over at a frazzled Ignis and an exhausted Gladio leaning on his hands as he sits down.

“Did…it happen again?” Noctis asks quietly.

Ignis silence is enough to confirm it. 

“I need— “ 

“I swear if you say get stronger, I’m going to…I don’t know. I’m going to do something,” Gladio groans. He looks over at Noctis and sighs, “Not bad, princess.” 

“But I— “

“Summoned a deadly force in a time of danger and stress,” Ignis answers. “Yes, well, we know if anything dire is to happen we have that as a backup for—for serious situations.” 

Gladio snorts. “Never seen you look so flustered, Iggy. Nice to see you’re not a perfect stick in the mud,” he laughs. 

Ignis bristles. "You—you find this funny?!”

“No, but what am I supposed to do. Cry?" He laughs. “Laughing is better."

He stands gingerly, flinching at the pain. “Uh, so, I need a potion and I don’t want to explain what happened in the training room. Maybe if we sneak out no one will notice. Come on, let’s hurry before—“

“Gladiolus,” says a man as he walked into the scene of the incident, grey eyes looking between the three boys. “What happened?”

Gladio grunts. “Why did you single me out?” 

“You’re the only one with injuries that have not been healed and just tried to sneak out without an explanation.”

Gladio sighs. “I…I was training with Noctis,” he starts as the man raises an eyebrow. “I went too far and lost control and then he did the whole storm thing and that’s it.”

The man looks over his injuries and raises an eyebrow. “A storm caused these burn marks?" he asks, looking over at Ignis.

Gladio winces. “Yeah, 'cause lightning is hot? Uncle Cor, can we please leave,” he pleads. “I need a potion and I’ll come back to clean up afterward.” 

Cor glances over at Ignis who stands straighter than before and stares at the one called “Immortal” down. Eventually, Ignis looks away as he tries to distract himself by helping Noctis from the ground.

Cor grunts before holding a potion out for Gladio. “Break it and get to work. Let Ignis help you.” He makes no room for an argument from Gladio. He looks over at Ignis who looks at Noctis before looking at Cor. 

“I've got him from here,” he says, picking Noctis up in his arms with ease. He looks down at Ignis seeing the scorched sleeves and chuckles. “You know, there was only a few chances and some luck that made this situation not be worse than it is. You both need to talk out whatever you need to before leaving here. Noctis is counting on both of you." he sighs. “Now, go help him clean up,” he says, seeing Gladio already break the potion over his head, healing most of the burn wounds instantly.

Ignis purses his lips, “yes Marshal,” he states before walking towards Gladio pushing his sleeves up staring at Gladio worried. Cor rolls his eyes. They’ll figure it out eventually. Meanwhile, he has to take care of the Prince. Noctis doesn’t look too banged up from what happened and maybe he just needs rest. Astrals knows he needs it if he already fell asleep in his arms. Cor sighs and begins to carry Noctis towards his bedroom.

* * *

Noctis gasps, sitting up suddenly. He feels his heart racing in his chest and looks around the barren land. Did he destroy everything? He stands up, turning around in a circle and sees nothing for miles.

“Noctis, you returned so soon,” squeaks Carbuncle, landing on his shoulder. “You seem troubled. What happened?” they ask as Noctis begins to break down the bits and pieces he remembers to Carbuncle. He explains the fight, the sudden news of having to attend a real school, his loss of control, Gladio attacking him…it’s all too much and makes his chest hurt. 

“I just want to sleep, Carbuncle. Can’t I sleep here?” he asks. “I can’t be strong enough like I promised Luna. Ignis and Gladio only help me because they have to and my dad…my dad is sending me away.”

Carbuncle licks Noctis’ nose. “That is a lot to take in all at once, isn’t it? I just don’t understand why you don’t see yourself as strong.”

“Because I got hurt and couldn’t win.” He frowns.

“Well, you don’t have to win.” They grin. “You just have to survive, and you seem to be doing so well with that.” 

“Well, I guess so,” he says as the land begins to simmer a different color that he can’t define. “But Ignis and Gladio—“

“They did push you too far, but they want you to be the best you can be. They’re not adults, Noctis. They will make mistakes. Well, adults make mistakes as well, but they are learning just as you are learning. Sometimes we have to be patient. I am not disagreeing with you, though. They should have stopped the fight sooner and known better about some aspects, but they are only a few years older than you.”

Noctis pouts. “I know.” He looks in the distance and sees the familiar pier he made when he first entered the dreamland. “I just can’t seem to make anyone stay. No one wants to be around me—Ignis and Gladio do it because they have to but everyone…” He pauses. “They’re scared of me or they only want something from me. I don’t know why Dad thought it would be a good idea to send me to a normal school. They’re just going to surround me and annoy me and—ouch.” He rubs the top of his head, feeling Carbuncle paw the top of his head.

“You can’t judge someone when you haven’t even met them yet,” Carbuncle sighs. “Who knows? You might even find someone to talk to at this school of yours. I’m sure that’s what your father is hoping to happen.”

“Carbuncle, that’s great, but I don’t think it’ll happen. They’ll know me as ‘Prince’ first before Noctis.” He sits on the end of the pier, looking out at the lake. “I’m scared, Carbuncle.”

“And that is a normal feeling to have with change or experiencing something new. But unless you give it a chance…”

“Then everything stays the same…I know,” he sighs. “I mean—I want just one friend, Carbuncle. Just one that wouldn’t look at me as a ‘Prince’. It would be nice but I’m not going to keep my hopes up.”

“Noctis.”

“Oh, fine I’ll try…but I doubt anything will come of it,” he murmurs.

“Hmm, well, I have a good feeling it will be something different.”


	4. Freesia

_ 11 years earlier _

It was cold, wet, and filled with half-frozen slushed snow. It was sinking into the leather steel-toed boots. No amount of gear, no amount of equipment could have prepared him for this type of cold. They had been out in this frozen wasteland for the last three months. The supplies were running low and the cold continued to decrease the men needed for extraction. It was supposed to be an easy information case. Find out why exactly Niflheim needs an isolated facility far from the nearest town. It was over fifty miles from the nearest source of life in the barren land. There was no point in any settlement being built here unless it was for some hidden reason. 

Cor blows into his gloved hands, feeling the tips of his fingers beginning to go numb. He needed to move, and move soon otherwise he’d be coming back with a few nubs on everything he could need. Of course, he had chosen to participate in this mission, and after some yelling and bickering with his commander, he had suggested he and Fortis should be the ones to continue the process. Continue freezing their asses was more like it. 

Cor just wanted to feel the sun; not see the light from the sun but feel the actual warmth from the sun and, unfortunately, this area had short days and even longer nights. He glances over at Fortis as she hunkers down in their spot, trying to offer warmth. 

“Anything yet?”

“I got nothing,” she huffs, pulling the furred hat over her ears. “Don’t know why they still sent us out here. There’s nothing but snow, some half crumbling buildings, and more snow!”

“They must have their eyes on something. It’d be a huge waste if we had been hiding out in the snow for no reason. No one has been in or out of that place since we got here. Maybe it’s an underground cover.” Cor blows into his hands again.

“At least underground it’d be warm, right?”

“It would be…you know what we should do?” he starts as Fortis' eyes widen. 

“Cor, we got our orders.”

“Right, right. But I just saw something funky out the corner of my eye; might be one of them Niflheim soldiers. Better investigate,” he says, giving her a salute before heading down the snowy turf.

“Are you seriously going to blow this just to go home?”

“I’m cold, wet, tired, and my fingers are going to turn black and fall off if we don’t do anything about this. So, unless you wanna stay up here and freeze to death, I suggest that you start moving.” He doesn’t wait for their response, beginning to gradually make his way down the slope towards the facility.

“Cor,” she hisses before reluctantly following him.

Cor doesn’t answer her and just keeps sliding down the steep hill as carefully as he can while trying not to be seen. The area doesn’t have any surveillance spots and if it does, the extreme cold would have frozen the wires anyway.

Or it appears to no longer have surveillance. He hides by one of the larger snow-covered boulders and looks on at the facility. No smoke rises from the top of the building. The once bright lights that used to be on are flickering on and off. Tracks are covered by mountains of snow leading the facility. The pathway is more ice than an actual pathway. The longer Cor looks into the facility, the more warning bells are going off. Something about this is going to be interesting.

The blare of a siren and a robotic overhead announcement makes him duck further behind his cover. He can barely make out the words the announcement is making; his Niffheilm’s is not as good as he would like it to be. It mentions something about shutting down and leaving and closed. The reason is interrupted by the announcement dying on the speaker. He watches the facility as nothing comes forth from the building. No sounds of terror, no screams. Nothing that would signal interruption or take over from within. 

“Hey,” says Fortis, bumping shoulders with him, making Cor twitch from the contact. “So, has it gone down then?”

“Something is up,” he comments gruffly. “No one is coming out and that alarm barely made it. So, either the snow has dislodged or cooled the wires or something internal is happening right now. Best to just wait a bit longer before entering.” 

She grins, “well good old Cor jinxed it.” 

“Jinxed what?” he demands, refusing to get flustered. 

“Well, we did want something more exciting,” she laughs. “Guess the Astrals answered our pleas.” 

Cor grunts, turning his attention back towards the facility. The sound of screams and wails are coming from inside. They are muffled and incomprehensible. The sounds are jarring, and he can’t catch anything other than a few words from the distance he is located. However, he recognizes the high pitch squeal and laughter as the screams begin to diminish over time. 

“An Imp? I thought they couldn’t stand the snow.”

“They can’t,” Cor says, looking at the shaking entrance door. They want to get out; whatever daemon or creature that’s inside wants to get out. The high pitched noise reverberates across the snowy field. Cor rubs his nose and begins to half jog towards the entrance, cautious of the slick, icy road. Fortis is not too far behind him, more or less used to Cor’s antics. It’s better to follow and ask questions later. Cor is usually good with a situation like this. Most of the time.

Cor doesn’t even have to look up to see if Fortis is following him. He slides towards the entrance; a metal hinged double steel door. It’s massive and usually durable against most natural elements. Cor observes the door, noticing the indented groove marks that reach outwards. Most of them are oval-shaped as if someone is trying to push through the steel door. One, however, makes him cringe. Claw marks in solid steel. He presses his hand up against the mark and pulls back. A bloody talon falls from the mark and lands in the snow, offering a bit of color against the washed out building.

“Is that?” trembles Fortis, reaching out in the Armiger for his long pole. 

“Zu—a big monster bird—or something like it.”

“Alright; so daemons that shouldn’t be able to survive in these conditions can survive in this facility? What do you think they’ve been working on?”

“Nothing good,” he comments, pulling his katana from the Armiger and slicing the metal door down in one strike. “We need to investigate.” 

“Do we have to?” she asks teasingly.

“We don’t have an option not to. We need to find out what went wrong. Why it looks like,” he says, boots stepping through the blood-filled floor, “a bunch of scientists got injured.”

He doesn’t have to wait long at all; the same playful, dangerous laughter they heard early begins to get louder and louder. The blue creature laughs, displaying its sharp, rotting teeth. Their eyes lock in on Cor and Fortis, laughter coming from their lips before they begin to attack. Cor blocks the attack as Fortis dodges, jumping away before countering by slashing the imp with the long pole. It screeches, dark blood falling to the floor. Its attention turns towards Fortis as it laughs before a katana is sticking right outside its head. 

The imp falls to the ground, motionless.

“Good work,” Cor says waving the blade to get the daemon blood off.

Fortis shrugs. “They’re not that bad. It’s the Zu I’m worried about,” she says as the lights flicker back on. 

“That’s ominous.”

“Zu in general are ominous,” she comments. Cor rolls his eyes, walking further down the flickering hallway.

Fortis follows behind, polearm ready for action. “So, you don’t think we should get out and just report our findings?”

Cor raises a brow. “That we found a facility of dead Niffs and upgraded daemons but don’t know how it happened?” 

Fortis glares. “You know you make it sound as if I’m stupid. I was just thinking about your freezing toesies, is all.” She shrugs before drawing herself to attention, hearing something scraps across the floor. She looks over at Cor who is already scanning the hallway for signs of anything moving towards them. Fortis looks behind her and sees nothing.

“My baby,” she hears hissed from in front of them. Steam bursts from a broken value as something large and scaley slithers quickly before them. Cor wastes no time and slashes at the beast coming towards them, ripping open the belly. The creature ignores them and slithers past them outside, calling for a baby.

“That…that didn’t act like a daemon at all,” Fortis says, hearing the wails of the snake creature crying for a baby.

“We need to find documents, paperwork—anything that can connect this madness. I have a feeling King Regis won’t be able to convince the council of these wrongs without evidence of some kind,” he says, continuing down the hallway and ignoring the slick liquid squishing beneath his boots. It’s better to just ignore the sound. 

The first door they come to is open. Fortis goes inside first and makes sure the small room is clear before allowing Cor to come inside. Scattered files and papers cover the floor. It would take months to sort through them all. 

“Hey, Cor.” Fortis grins, showing off an old recorder. “Found something,” she says, hitting play as static noise comes from the recorde, a voice emerging. Fortis and Cor both look at each other as the voice reverberates throughout the room. They know that voice; they can’t forget a voice that has been broadcasted on the news and radio for years. It’s the Niflheim lead scientist, Verstael Besithia. 

His gruff but high-pitched voice provides an image for both Kingsglaive to comprehend. This facility had been using wild daemons to merge with human prototypes. The information alone on that is enough to condemn Verstael, but will it change anything? Not really. He’s protected by Niflheim and if they are smart, this whole facility will be destroyed so no one else can see the evidence. The recording stops playing, and Fortis shakes her head.

“Fucking monsters.” 

Cor grunts, taking the recorder from Fortis. He places it under his protective chest gear. “Let’s keep moving. See if we find any survivors.” 

“Are you serious?” Fortis hisses. “You just heard—“

“I heard that they had been experimenting on humans. And some of them might still be alive and if not, they deserve mercy,” he says bluntly, walking out of the room. “Send out a message to Headquarters of our location.”

Fortis bites her lip and sighs, tapping the device under her coat and inserting the coordinates quickly. If they don’t survive, at least Headquarters will be able to find the location of where their bodies might be resting.

Hours pass as they explore the facility searching for any survivors. So far, they have found none. They’ve only found half-turned monstrosities begging for release, those too far gone—more daemon than human anymore—or the dead. Nothing moves in this facility except the daemons trying to kill them.

Cor wipes the blood from his forehead, pulling his katana from the latest kill. “You alright, Fortis?” 

Fortis laughs. “Sure, never better. I asked for some action and we sure got it,” she says, swinging her polearm around to get rid of the blood. It barely does anything to the weapon. She sighs. “I need to wipe Lancy Poo before the next fight or it’ll slip from my grip.”

Cor blinks his eyes at her. “I never understood why you name your weapons such—such…”

“Awesome names right?” She smirks. “It keeps me sane—er, saner. A normal or cutesy name for a weapon while having to be in control or kill daemons constantly. Nice to be grounded with a weapon that has a unique or abnormal name, dealing with what we have to deal with. It helps.” She shrugs as she begins to wipe the blood from the handle of her polearm. 

Metal against metal can be heard in the not too far distance. She looks over at Cor, concerned. 

“I got it,” he says, rolling his shoulder. 

“You sure? You give me like three minutes I’ll be done.”

“No, I got it. Doesn’t sound like a coeurl; sounds like someone is trying to move a door and failing.”

“Or it could be a daemon trying to break it down!” she shouts as he moves to the next room without her. 

She frantically wipes her weapons as fast as she can. Cor can be too reckless—or maybe the facility is finally starting to get to him. Maybe they’ll be able to leave after this one room.

“Fortis!” shouts Cor in the distance. Fortis stops wiping her polearm and runs down the hallway, seeing Cor standing in front of a half-open door that keeps trying to close. The gears inside won’t let it move. 

“What’d ya scream for I thought—“

He only points at the room inside before Fortis' jaw drops.

The room is barely lit up with blue and green blinking lights. Hanging electrical wires buzz and snap as they move. There’s no blood in this room, nothing out of the ordinary…except for the fact there are hundreds of floating babies in clear tubes filled with aqua blue fluid. Wires are connected to every section of the babies as they float, unaware of the danger they are in. Blinking lights display underneath each tube incased baby in bright red letters defective.

Cor enters the room fist gripping his blade. “they shouldn’t suffer anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? We can save them!” Fortis intervenes. “They’re just in fucking tubes so so there has to be some way to save them!” 

Cor frowns and points his katana to one of the tubes filled babies. Inside, it has already begun to deteriorate and decay. “They are labeled for destruction. They’re no longer alive.”

“You mean it’s like those encased dead organs at school? They’re just floating in embalming fluid?”

“…I don’t know. I just know they aren’t alive. Nothing is alive here. Nothing that should be,” he growls out.

Fortis sighs. “Ready to head out, then?”

“Yeah…I need a minute.”

Fortis frowns. “Cor, you tried. Niflheim is just a bunch of bastards.”

Cor nods his head and doesn’t say anything else. Fortis exits the room, giving Cor time to come to terms with the fact babies are being used in this experiment. The reasons for why—well, the why doesn’t matter, there’s no excuse for this malice.

Cor walks down the room, looking at the various filled tubes. Some of the victims appear normal enough while others look half deformed from experimentation. It’s sickening. He clears his throat, trying to keep his control as he forces himself towards the back and sees a hidden glass room. The experiments must have been watched from behind that door, watched by scientists who knowingly… 

Cor runs a hand through his hair and pauses, drawing his sword. He heard crying behind the door. If it’s some weasel of a scientist, he won’t let them stay alive. There’s nothing worth saving here, not anymore. He kicks open the door and hears wailing coming from underneath a thrown lab coat. Cor hesitates as he walks towards the moving mass that continues to wail worse than a banshee. He removes the coat quickly and comes face to face with one of the babies. One of the identical babies that was in the test tube. 

“Why are you out of the test tube?” he asks as the baby continues to wail and cry, violet eyes looking up at Cor as they sob.

Cor sheaths his sword and kneels, poking the baby in its belly. It cries louder as he pokes it before releasing gas. Cor covers his mouth, coughing. “Toxic gas…they filled a baby with toxic gas,” he coughs.

The baby on the floor whimpers before screaming. Cor didn’t know what to do in this situation. An actual baby is alive in this place. A real-life baby…with a barcode? He sees a smudge of black on the baby’s wrist and wipes it. They tattooed a barcode on a baby.

Cor looks down at the screaming baby and sighs. He takes the coat that was covering it earlier, bundling the squirming baby in it as best as he can before picking the little one up. He cradles his head against his chest rocking him to try and soothe the baby. He’s seen mothers do this before and it worked. Why isn’t it working for him?

The baby squirms in his arms as he tries to shush its crying to no success. He carries it out from the glass room and walks down the hallway of test-tube babies quickly. He doesn’t want to recognize this baby’s face in those that are gone. Once outside the room, he rocks the baby in his arms, feeling it start to relax slightly.

“The fuck Cor?” Fortis shouts, which makes the baby scream its head off once more.

“I found him.”

“Him?!”

“Yes…a baby.”

She clasps her hands together and takes a deep breath. “You found a baby in a factory that is making war babies and you want to take it home?”

“…It’s just a baby. It doesn’t need to die here.”

Fortis finds that no words can come from her mouth. “I... well…no, shit.” She crosses her arms. “Look, you got a genetic experiment in your arms. The council, for all their well-meaning intentions, are going to kill it or worse—do the same thing they did,” she says, pointing to the glowing blue room. “It would be better if it was dead.”

Cor looks down at the violet eyes of the baby and grins. “Or hidden.”

Fortis raises an eyebrow. “You got a plan on how to hide him?”

Cor shrugs. “We have evidence of Niflheim using their people for genetic experiments right here.” He taps his chest.

“And?”

“They were using random people in their initial experiments before.”

“Verstael decided his genetics was top tier, right? I remember hearing that, too,” she says, annoyed.

“This is a survivor of those experiments. We found him here and his parents are gone right.” 

“Uh, sure, I guess? I mean he is a clone baby so what  _ are _ parents?” she laughs.

“Right: so, technically, not a lie. We just have to be able to trick the council. King Regis is better at turning their views elsewhere when needed.” 

“So, this baby is just a refugee that got the short end of the stick,” she says, bopping the baby on the nose. 

“It’s believable, and there’s no way to prove if it’s true or not, but the implications found here…” She grins.

“Either one of the scientists decided for the good of their country to sacrifice their baby… _ or  _ one of their own poorer people was forced to give birth, so two for the price of one.”

Fortis laughs. “Damn, you sure know how to make a convincing story with enough loopholes it can be believed just enough.” 

“It’ll protect him. We can’t explain the barcode away so this is the next best thing we can do,” he sighs, readjusting the baby in his arms.

Fortis nods her head. “But like you said, King Regis can work out the finer details. Thing is, who in Insomnia will take a baby from Niflheim?” 

Cor scrunches his brow before blurting. “I will.”

Fortis covers her mouth, snorting. “Cor, you didn’t even know how to cook noodles until last month.”

Cor tsks. “Cooking takes too long. Unless it’s meat, why cook just eat it raw?” He shrugs.

“Ok, so let’s say you take this baby in. Where is it going to live? What are you going to do when you go on missions? Who will take care of it? Baby clothes and food and all that junk costs a lot of money.”

Cor frowns. “I don’t want it to grow up alone.” Fortis closes her eyes. “I—it’s not a great feeling; you do stupid shit, get in trouble often. Try to impress anyone who gives you the time of day…it’s not a good life. I want it better for this one.”

Fortis sighs. “That’s why it needs a good home. A stable home, with a mom and dad—the works. They’ll need to be understanding, have good upbringing, and you’re good at figuring people out, so you screen them and choose who this baby goes to. Make it one of the requirements or something? I don’t know how people adopt babies. Just be involved, but let it have two parents,” she says, poking the baby’s arm. “It’s so squishy…it has that new baby smell.”

Cor readjusts the baby and looks at her, worried. “I’ll send out an extraction signal once we get closer towards the exit.”

“Why?” 

“In case we don’t make it out,” he says bluntly. “We don’t need to waste the Kingsglaives’ time.”


	5. Gardenia

It’s six months before Cor can find a good fit for the baby, who now goes by Prompto. He earned the name when he disappeared from Cor’s sight just once. Cor swears the baby crawled with unnatural speed; hence why he was named after something fast. It hasn’t been the easiest activity to do. Raising a baby while waiting for the perfect parents to appear is rough. He didn’t trust the orphanage they wanted to put Prompto; it didn’t feel right so he had taken the duty of raising the baby until proper guardians were found. It was unheard of, but the council could care less if a Niflheim baby didn’t survive with Cor the Immortal.

They had no faith in Cor keeping the baby safe for less than a week.

Well, he proved them wrong to a point. He had help, of course, from Regis. His son had been born almost a year ago and Prompto appeared to be about the same age. Still, as he sits behind the table, refusing to adjust himself in the chair as these people, the Argentums, answer questions like a textbook pop quiz. They’re getting a perfect score. It puts Cor on edge. On paper, they look like amazing people; both are in international marketing, have been married for the last six years, and have had difficulty with having children of their own. They want a child to fill their home now, or so they say. Cor can’t place his finger on it, but something in his gut is telling him to say no. Carl and Karen Argentum just don’t sound like a good fit. His beeper beeps in his pocket and he checks the number, frowning.

“Excuse me,” he says, interrupting them. “I have to take a call.”

He leaves them with the other two interviewers, finding the nearest phone he can use to talk privately. He dials the number quickly, hears it ring once before he answers, “You found dirt on them?”

“What dirt on who?” asks Titus Drautos on the other line.

“Hmm, nothing.”

“You’re at that interview for the kid, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

The Glaive sighs. “Look, what’s going to be wrong with this pair of parents now? You’ve had the kid what, about three months now?”

“Six.”

“Six,” he says, whistling. “Cor, you need to just give him away.”

“I will when the right parents come along.”

“Cor, it’s just a kid. You’ve background checked all these people—nothing bad about them, and then all of a sudden you do an interview with them and say no. Either get rid of the kid or adopt him already.”

“It has to be right,” he sighs. “Enough about that what did you call for?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Titus says, sounding frustrated. “We found another clone factory, this one much worse than the one you went to. We need you back, Cor.” 

“I have to follow through and find a good home for the kid.”

“Right, and abandon all the ones who are still getting tortured in these factories? We would cover more ground with you there. They follow you more than us. We need you back soon. So, let these parents just have him. They’re good enough, right?”

“No.” 

“No? What wrong with them?”

“I don’t know, just a gut instinct.” 

“Cor, we need to see you back with us in two weeks. Unless you can find another family in two weeks, then this will be his family, otherwise, he’ll go to the orphanage, got it? I hate being the asshole, but your duty is more important than one Niff brat,” Titus says over the phone. “That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir,” he says before hanging up.

He has no choice; these two will be Prompto’s parents. There’s not enough time to do the process over again and hope for a decent set of parents. They seem nice enough, they have money, come from a good background. The kid will be ok.

* * *

“Prompto,” calls his father from the living room. 

Prompto comes stumbling down the stairs, earning a sigh from his father. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” he says looking at the yellow print Chocobo on his shirt along with purple shorts and white tennis shoes. “They look pretty and Cor— “

His father sighs. “Prompto, we’ve been over this.” 

Prompto stands there, looking down at his shoes and biting his lip.

“There is no Cor.” He frowns. “There never has been anyone by that name, and we don’t take things found outside.”

Prompto pouts. “But it was on the doorstep and—and it said my name, too, ‘cause I know how to spell my name.” He smiles.

“Yes, same as the other kids at school I’m sure,” his father says, getting his papers together as his wife enters the living room.

“What are you both doing here? Shouldn’t you have taken Prompto to school already?” She begins to set the coffee maker as she grabs a cup from the cupboard.

“No, it’s your job to take him today. I have a meeting,” he says, adjusting his tie. “He’s not even ready, just look at him.”

“He still needs help getting dressed,” she says softly.

“No, I don’t. I’mma big boy.”

“You’re four, Prompto; you should be able to dress and not waste our time,” his father says, heading for the door.

“Hey, you need to take him to school,” his mother says. “I have a meeting at eight this morning. I can’t drop him off and get prepared.” 

“Well, I’m not doing it. I have to go before I’m even more late. Just have him stay home today. It’s not like he’s learning anything at school, anyway.” 

“Noooo, I want to go. I want to go!” he cries, stomping his feet. “Please let me go,” he says, jumping and waving his hands.

“Damnit, Carl,” she snarls, kneeling by Prompto and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Stop that! Stop that right now. Quiet your hands right now, young man!” she shouts. Prompto stops jumping and moving his arms. He instead rocks on his feet, looking at his mother as he cries.

“Now, then, that’s better,” she says, rubbing his arms. “We don’t act like animals, do we?”

Prompto sniffles. “N-no…but I wanna go to school.”

She sighs. “I know you do, sweetie, but your father just left for work, and I don’t have time to take you today. You’ll have fun with Mrs. Sanders. She’s nice and looks after you when we can’t be here.” 

“Can she take me?”

“Oh, Prompto, sweetie, you can’t ask that of her. She’s so old it would be dangerous for her to take you. Now, go get a coloring book and one toy to bring over to her house. Hurry up, Mommy has to get to work.”

Prompto frowns and nods his head as he walks up the stairs, slowly. Why can’t he just go to school? They were going to finger paint, and make trains with boxes, and he was going to sing the welcome song first today. It’s not fair.

“Prompto, don’t forget your wristband.” 

Prompto looks at the black numbers on his wrist and frowns. He doesn’t like wearing the wristband; it’s too itchy and smells weird when he takes it off. Reluctantly, he heads to his room which is filled with a toy chest, various books, and games all around. It’s the perfect playroom right out of a magazine. He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve and picks the first coloring book he sees. 

“Prompto, hurry up!” his mother yells from downstairs. 

Prompto bites his lip and chooses the flamingo on his bed to bring over to Mrs. Sander’s house. He rushes down the stairs as quickly as he can and stands before his mother. 

“I’m ready, Mama,” he tells her as she finishes her coffee.

“Thank you, Prompto. Let’s go next door so I can drop you off,” she says, grabbing his hand and leading him outside the house. She walks with him down their small sidewalk before walking him towards the main sidewalk. She hurries her steps, heels clicking as Prompto tries to keep up. He feels the plush falling from his grasp. Luckily, he only drops it right outside Mrs. Sander’s door.

“Ugh, Prompto, you got your toy dirty,” she huffs as she rings the doorbell. “Straighten yourself up; you got dirt everywhere,” she says as she begins to wipe the plush and his clothes off quickly before the door is opened.

“Mrs. Sanders, good morning,” she starts as the old woman looks over at her and her son.

“Nothing good, if you are here with the brat,” she sneers. “I told you it was only one time I was going to watch him.” 

“Oh, but Mrs. Sanders you’re my only hope. I’ll pay you double to watch him today.”

“And he’ll be picked up at four.”

“Four-thirty.”

“No. Four, or I kick him out,” she says, crossing her arms.

His mother sighs. “Well, fine. By four,” she says, pushing Prompto forward. “Now, Prompto, be a good boy for Mrs. Sanders.”

“Ok…I’ll be good,” he says, moving slowly towards the door. His mother pats him on the head before leaving him with Mrs. Sanders. He looks back at his mother and tries not to frown.

“What, are you gonna wait for her to come back all day? Get inside and don’t touch anything in the house, got it?” Mrs. Sanders snorts, pulling him inside before slamming the door shut.

Prompto moves inside the house and holds his flamingo close to him, his coloring book in his arms as he looks around the house. It smells like moldy newspaper and stale coffee. Mrs. Sanders shuffles her body towards the kitchen holding her side as she coughs. She spits out what can only be described as a greenish-yellow mucus into her bathrobe before wiping her face with said bathrobe. Prompto makes a look of disgust.

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, you dirty Niff. I bet your dumb mother didn’t even feed you before dropping you off.”

Prompto shakes his head. “Well, come on. You can get some toast while I get dressed for the day. Wasn’t expecting no company today,” she grumbles, shuffling towards her bedroom and leaving Prompto to his own devices.

Prompto stands in his spot, unwilling to move. The carpet is too crunchy, and he fears that the carpet monster will come out and eat him. His dad said it only came out during the night if he tried to get up out of bed, but he’s not sure if they can travel houses either. So, he stands there and waits until Mrs. Sanders comes back dressed in a long dress, graying hair pulled up into a bun.

“Oh, are you not hungry?”

“I’m hungry,” he says, worried, “I just wanted to wait for you. Mama says it’s polite to wait.”

The woman tsks. “Manners. Didn’t know Niffs had those.”

Prompto frowns at that word again. He’s heard it before; he knows he’s had to have heard it somewhere.

“What are you scrunching your eyebrows for?”

“What’s a Niff?” he asks innocently.

The woman laughs. “It’s you, or are you stupid too?”

Prompto scowls at the unfamiliar word. He may not know what it means but it sounds bad. “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure? You could have fooled me,” she says, making toast. “Now, you’re going to sit on the couch and watch TV until your mom comes to pick you up.” 

“I don’t wanna.” 

“Well, tough, ‘cause you’re going to,” she says before snatching his flamingo. “Or I’ll boil your bird in the pot.” 

“Nooo,” he cries reaching for it. “Don’t hurt Henry!” 

“Henry?” she asks, looking at the bird before setting it on the counter, out of Prompto’s reach. “Henry is going to be safe up here, as long as you watch TV and keep your trap shut.” 

Prompto sniffles. “What’s a trap?”

“Your mouth. Now go sit,” she gestures at the couch, getting the toast from the toaster and buttering it. Prompto moves slowly towards the couch and scrunches his nose. It smells weird and has weird colors on the couch. 

Splotches of red and orange swirls fill the couch, along with odd stains. He can’t even guess what they are. He finds the cleanest spot he can and sits on the couch as Mrs. Sanders brings over buttered toast for both of them. He picks up a piece and bites into it before spitting it out. It doesn’t taste right; the bread is too hard but one looks from Mrs. Sanders and he’s forcing himself to eat the stale bread.

The day continues slowly as he spends it with Mrs. Sanders. He doesn’t remember the last time he was here. He must have been very small. He fidgets in his seat and looks at Mrs. Sanders. “I have to go potty.”

Mrs. Sanders looks up from the table, papers everywhere, and sighs. “Then use the bathroom.”

“But I don’t know where it is,” he says scooting down from the couch and jumping back and forth.

“You know, kid,” she says. “You’re an annoying waste of space. Wasting my time with the bathroom. Now, you better not piss your pants,” she says, yanking his arm and leading him to the bathroom.

“You’re hurting me!” he protests as she ignores him and pulls him to the bathroom. She gets him in the bathroom before shutting the door on him. Prompto sniffles and quickly begins to pull down his pants, trying to get to the toilet on time. He barely makes it and relieves himself quickly before heading back towards the couch. He sees Mrs. Sanders, who only points to the couch as a means of communication. Prompto nods his head and climbs back up the huge couch before sitting in his same spot until his mother returns. He hopes his mother will return soon. He doesn’t like Mrs. Sanders at all.

It’s after four when Mrs. Sanders stands up from the chair and walks towards the front door. “Prompto, time to go.”

“Is Mama there?” he asks, excited, grabbing his coloring book.

“No.”

“But I can’t go without Mama,” he says, as she hands him Henry and pushes him towards the door. “I don’t wanna go outside. Mama!”

“Look, I said four. It’s three minutes past that; she’s late, and you’ve wasted more of my time than I care about. Now, get out and go home. You’re a big boy, aren’t ya?” she remarks, pushing him outside her house before locking the door.

Prompto bangs his tiny fist on the door, begging to be let in. He doesn’t want to go home alone. It’s scary. He begins to sob as he moves away from Mrs. Sanders’ house, walking down the sidewalk and turning to see if the door would open. No luck. He continues to cry as he walks towards the beginning of the sidewalk. Everything is so big and bright. It’s too much to remember where his house is. He’s lost and he hasn’t even left Mrs. Sanders driveway.

“Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” asks a young man, kneeling to Prompto’s level.

Prompto looks up and cries before hugging the man. “Cor!”

“Yeah, buddy, what’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing Prompto’s back. “Hey, don’t cry, you're safe. Ok?”

Prompto hiccups, sobbing, “Mama isn’t here, and I got out and I can’t go back and—” he sobs, unable to explain himself further.

“I’m sorry, Prompto, I don’t know what you said,” he says, rubbing his back. “You want me to sit with you by your house?” he asks. “How’d you get here anyway?”

“Mama dropped me off here,” he says wiping his eyes. “Daddy says you’re imagier—imagi canary,” he pouts.

“Imaginary,” Cor supplies as Prompto nods his head. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, that’s not very nice of him is it?” he asks as Prompto shakes his head no.

“Hmm. Well, let’s go back to your house and wait for your mama, ok?” 

“Promise you won’t go,” he demands, squeezing Cor’s hand. 

Cor pats Prompto on the back. “I won’t today.” 

Prompto thinks it over before nodding his head. “‘Kay…can I get candy?”

“Candy, huh. Is that all I’m good for?” he teases as Prompto giggles.

“Prompto!,” yells his mother from down the sidewalk. Her heels click against the concrete as she rushes angrily towards him. “Who told you to leave Mrs. Sander's house?!” 

Prompto winces at the noise. “I didn’t! She put me out and you were gone!” he cries leaning against Cor. 

“Prompto, stop your crying and come here right now.” she hisses as Prompto sniffles on Cor’s pant leg. 

“Karen, good to see you again,” interrupts Cor, standing taller than before as he makes his face appear emotionless. “What’s this about a Mrs. Sanders kicking Prompto out?” 

Karen looks up at him and sighs. “She was babysitting Prompto, and he must be lying about being kicked out. What are you doing here? Carl and I told you we could handle him.” 

Cor shrugs. “Just in the area and I found him sobbing his eyes out outside your neighbor’s yard.” 

“Well, he must have got confused and forgot to go in,” she says, grabbing Prompto by the arm. “Come on, Prompto, time to go home.” 

“Cor’s coming too,” he tells her.

“No, sweetie, he has a lot of duties he has to attend to. Right Marshal?” she sneers.

“I’ll see you later, Prompto. Listen to your mother,” Cor says, looking back at Karen. “Maybe you can ask to find a better babysitter than a grouchy old woman who’s a racist.” 

Karen glares at Cor. “What did you just say?”

“Mama, what’s a racist?” 

“A very mean person,” she answers before directing her attention back to Cor. 

“Oh…Mrs. Sanders is mean.” 

“Prompto, be quiet. The adults are speaking,” she says a little too sweetly. “Cor, thank you for looking after Prompto like you did, but there’s no reason this should go any further, am I clear? We are trying to give him a stable home, something you can’t do so if you know what’s best, you’ll stay out of our way got it.” 

Cor rubs the back of his head, “whatever you say, Karen. Can’t promise I won’t stop keeping a close eye on Prompto, just to make sure he’s doing alright.” He looks down at Prompto and offers a small smile. “See you later, Prompto, and take care.” 

Prompto nods his head, watching Cor leave. “‘Kay. Bye, Cor.” 

Prompto looks up at his mother and freezes. He knows that look; he recognizes it immediately. His mother is upset the pristine image she had tried to hold onto is shattered. He hears it in the sound of her voice, not recognizable to anyone but close family members. He follows beside her, entering the house before he receives a lecture from his mother. 

* * *

Prompto hasn’t seen Cor since that day. He’s been waiting for him to return; he said he would see him later, but later came and passed. Eventually, he begins to believe Cor just didn’t exist anymore. His father certainly tells him as such, trying to make him forget, but Cor had to have been real, right?

He hears his maid calling and frowns. Today will have been the second week he hasn’t seen his father or mother. And there’s so much he wants to tell him; he lost a tooth and hid it under his pillow like Asmaria said to do and he got candy and money. The tooth fairy exists! 

The not so good news is that at his last eye appointment, he couldn’t see so well and now he’s wearing glasses. He wonders if his parents will recognize him. Asmaria told him they might not, and he could become a superhero like The Ryder—a masked man when fighting crime but a humble accountant during the day. Whatever an accountant is. Becoming a superhero sounds a lot of fun. Maybe that will be his grown-up job and he won’t stay away from home for long either. That will be his superpower; being so fast, he gets home on time to see Asmaria! 

“Prompto, lunchtime!” Asmaria says from the stairs. 

“Be right there,” he says getting his shorts on quickly as he walks down the stairs.

“Well, don’t you look cute,” she smiles, seeing him in a bright red shirt with a firetruck and blue shorts.

“I’m not cute, I’m super, ‘cause I’m gonna be a hero, Asmaria,” he says, sitting at the table with a smile. “I’m gonna be so fast and get home on time and fight crime and—” he stops, seeing Asmaria answering the phone. 

“Hello, Asmaria speaking…what…but it’s…I know you are but…alright, I’ll tell him,” she says, sadly hanging up the phone. “Hey there, kiddo.” 

Prompto’s smile falls from his face. “They’re not coming home?” 

“No…I’m so sorry, Pom-Pom.” 

“But why? Why don’t they come home?” he asks, trying to hold back the tears. “Did I do something wrong? Do they hate me? I get good grades at school. And I come straight home, too, so I don’t miss them and—” he starts before hacking up a white petal from his lips. 

Asmaria looks at the petal, shocked. “Prompto.”

Prompto stares at the white petal, confused. How did he puke up a flower? Is this his superpower?

Asmaria takes out her phone and dials Karen’s number first, and then Carl’s. She finally gets an answer from Carl and tells him exactly what happened. Prompto doesn’t understand the urgency. It’s not a cool superpower, but it’s something, right? 

“I don’t care about your business. You need to come home, and see your kid now,” she says evenly over the phone. “I’m not telling you how to raise him, but he just had his first petal and you don’t think that’s a sign?!” 

“It might just be some schoolyard love. He’s, what, six?” 

“He’s nine,” she growls out. “Look, it was white and looked like a gardenia petal. You know that meaning. I know it’s not something you want to hear, but he needs you now.”

“Well, just take him to the hospital and have it removed if it gets worse. Sorry, I have to go,” he says, hanging up the phone.

Asmaria glares down at the phone in her hand and nearly throws it before she sees Prompto shivering. She takes a deep breath and kneels by him. “Prompto, I’m feeling scared. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know, but you got mad. Really mad,” he says worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Asmaria sighs, rubbing his head. “You did nothing wrong, kiddo. But I got scared because you had a petal come from your mouth. Do you know what that means?”

Prompto scrunches his eyebrows, thinking a minute before answering. “I have superpowers?”

Asmaria shakes her head. “No, honey, it means something else. Almost everyone goes through it, but some people don’t.”

“So, everyone has flowers,” he asks, coughing.

“Yes. Prompto, have you been coughing a lot?”

“I guess so…but I thought it was dust or allergies,” he says, fiddling with his fingers.

“It’s ok, kiddo. Come on, I need to tell you all about the flower curse, ‘cause we are going to find out why you are spitting flowers so early.”

“Ok…Asmaria, is spitting flowers bad?” he asks.

“It can be, but we’re going to figure it out together, alright?” She beams at him.

“Ah-huh.”

“Good. Now, let's talk about why flowers can sometimes come from your mouth, ok?”

Asmaria takes her time explaining the process as much as she can. Her mother had told her early about the flower curse before what some people would deem appropriate, but her mother wasn’t one to sugar coat anything. It might be rough, but she’s thankful for the honesty and openness right now.

“So, I love someone a lot, and they don’t like me back?” he asks with a frown.

Asmaria shakes her head. “No. It’s, well—when you feel a lot for someone, or some person, and it  _ feels  _ like they don’t love you back or in the same way, you start coughing up flowers. It was a way to make people come together and stop hiding, or being embarrassed? The main thing is, you feel this way and feelings change, so all you gotta do is not feel it, anymore, right?”

“Yeah, then I won’t cough anymore,” he says, coughing up another petal.

“Well, that’s easier said than done. Sometimes the coughing and the petals get to be too much. It starts to develop in your lungs and spread all over your body. It makes it very hard to breathe and sometimes you can die.”

Prompto gasps. “I don’t wanna die!”

“Pom-Pom you won't. I'm going to help you. Look, some people go to the hospital and get it removed, but that affects your health. Your lung mass is not the same so you’ll have shortness of breath often, and you won’t have feelings for that person at all. And since you don’t have feelings for them, they begin to fade and become background noise, or, in the worse case scenario, you don’t ever remember them.”

“Ok…so, what do I do?”

“You have to stop loving them. You just accept them.”

“But who are they?” he asks, coughing. “Do I know them? I like a lot of people. I like you, Asmaria, and the dogs at the park, and Smithers, and Cor, and Mom and Dad, too.” 

Asmaria frowns. “One of the ways to figure out who it is, that is causing this disease is by the flower. Hanahaki uses unique flowers for who you love, and you have gardenia petals.” Prompto looks confused. 

“It means family.”

Prompto looks away. “So,” he says, fidgeting. “I have to stop loving my mom and dad? I can’t do that.”

“Prompto, you don’t need to stop loving them. Just love them a different way. Love them as friends, or as some random acquaintance, just stop loving them so fully. It hurts when you do your best and they don’t seem to care, doesn’t it?”

Prompto nods his head silently. Asmaria pulls him in for a hug. “See, that’s what I mean. Don't care about them. They’re still your mom and dad but you don’t have to love them; just tolerate them ok?”

“But…but if I stop, then I’ll be giving up, right? I won’t do it. I can’t do it. I love them even if they don’t love me.” He shakes in her arms. Asmaria rubs his back, unsure of what else she can do. She doesn’t want to lose Prompto. Sure, the kid is a little weird, doesn’t look like most people in Insomnia, but he’s nice. He’s never said a bad word towards her, except maybe when she told him to go to bed one time. He’s a good kid who doesn’t deserve such shitty parents.

So, she sits on the couch with him, holding him tight and trying to infuse him with love. Telling him he’s loved. He’s loved.


	6. Barberry

Prompto sighs as he heads home after school. He wasn’t surprised when he stood outside the school building, waiting for Asmaria to pick him and walk with him home, but he’s double digits now. And Asmaria no longer looks after him. He doesn’t have to wonder why; she no longer is babysitting him after his first cough. She had called his parents, but they didn’t seem too concerned.

Prompto is ten years old today; he no longer needs a babysitter. He can manage the house fine all by himself. His parents leave him an allowance, and the utilities are paid on time, so he has nothing to worry about. His cough is still persistent. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, maybe he wasn’t a big deal. He covers his mouth, producing a cough along with a small yellow petal. It’s covered in mucus and looks disgusting. Nothing like how the movies make it out to be; all soft petals gently falling from the mouth. Not like his; his is congeal and feels like a frog trying to get out of his throat each time he coughs. 

He's trying to forget and push down his feelings for his parents. Trying to ignore what they are supposed to do, how they should be concerned for him, and maybe they are, in their own way. Maybe they’re just too busy to look after him. Lots of other kids have busy parents, too, and rarely see them. He’s not anything special. Still, it doesn’t stop him from hurting or feeling neglected because of their actions.

He’s almost to his home when he sees it waving in the air. Brightly colored balloons three of them one in blue and two in neon green tied by a white string across the mailbox. He dashes the last bit of the walk home, panting due to excitement and the short dash. He pulls down one of the balloons and pokes it, checking to make sure it’s real and not part of his imagination. It bounces back as it tries to float away from his reach. 

Prompto can barely hide his glee as he flapped his hands in excitement before unlocking the door quickly. 

“I’m home…Mom…Dad,” he says, looking around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary in his house.

Maybe they’re just hiding. Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise. He enters the living room, the same scattered papers from earlier that morning untouched. He heads through to the dining room, the hallway, their room, and, finally, his room. His parents not found. No yell of surprise. Nothing at all, but silence in an empty house. Same as it usually is.

Prompto tries to hold it in as he makes his way back to the front door. He slams it shut and hears it boom behind him. It’s not mature to do, but he’s just tired of them forgetting everything. They didn’t call him today like they promised, not even a good morning. Probably too busy to notice that he still exists in the house, even if they don’t come home to it often enough. 

He feels the tears rolling down his cheeks, a lump forming in his throat as he tries to just breath through it. He can feel the heat forming on his brow, he feels his face turning red from holding his emotion in as he walks back towards the mailbox. He sees the balloons mocking him as they float in the air. He opens up the mailbox and sees a small brown package mailing label wrapped around the brown box that has various writings on the box. Some of it appears to be very bad signatures of happy birthday written on the back. Along with other penmanship with similar writing. One even drew a Chocobo on the front saying  _ Kwehgratulations! _

Prompto wipes his eyes and takes the medium-sized package inside his house. He leaves the balloons outside. He can cut them down tomorrow, or leave them up for a few days; it’s not like his parents will care what he does. As if his body knows he is thinking about them, he coughs up a storm before entering the house, precious cargo in his hands. He locks up the door before gleefully carrying the package to the dining room table. He tries to peel it open with his blunt nails without success. He doesn’t want to tear the box open; he wants to keep it as a memento of this moment. Instead, he carefully gets a knife from the kitchen, cutting the tape from the sides of the package.

He opens it once he’s sure none of the writing on the package will be ripped, and gasps. Inside is a medium-sized Chocobo plush, along with a key chain to match. Prompto picks it up and hugs it before seeing the bottom of the box with a letter and another smaller wrapped box. He pulls out the letter and reads it over quickly, recognizing the handwriting. It’s a letter from Cor. He hasn’t heard from him in a few months—something about top-secret stuff not for kiddie ears. He places the card by the Chocobo and picks out the plain green wrapped box. It looks more like a mesh of paper rolled around a square, taped all over the edges. Prompto snorts.

“Cor, must not know how to wrap” He peels the paper off in pieces, tap covering the main part of the box. He sees red underneath the covering and reveals a small red image. He peels more of the paper and gasps as he pulls it off hurriedly.

“No way,” he whispers to himself as he opens the smaller box, revealing a red Lokicon camera. It is not the latest model but it’s a camera. He pulls out the device carefully, before trying to turn it on immediately.

It flickers on with bright light, showing a classic picture of the city of Insomnia before opening up to the main screen. It says it has half a battery power left. That’s just enough time for Prompto to go through most of the features. He can’t believe Cor got this for him. It’s not something he was even thinking of asking for and yet it’s a gift on his birthday. He couldn’t be happier. 

* * *

Months have passed since his birthday and his parents had forgotten the whole incident. Prompto didn’t feel the need to remind them at this point. He had taken Asmaria’s advice to get rid of his feelings for his parents. His parents might not love him the way he wants but they are still his parents. He stops coughing up petals in March. He can breathe better, and he doesn’t feel a weight on his chest as often anymore. It’s freeing.

Prompto develops a routine for himself. Wake up, go to school, walk home, do his homework, then bed. It’s tedious, but it’s a routine that keeps him focused and not thinking about his parents—or anything at all. It’s not any better when he is at school, anyway. Of course, there are bullies there—there’s always bullies at school—but he ignores them; he doesn't react, and it’s not so fun anymore. It’s not fun to pick on someone who doesn’t react to being pushed, doesn’t react to getting soaked with milk, doesn’t react to getting punched. It’s like picking on a tree or rock; pointless. Eventually, Prompto isolated himself from his classmates, even ones that would be his friends. It’s not worth the effort or drama. Besides, animals are better; they’re adorable and cute, and they love you back so easily.

Prompto enjoys animals more than people for that very reason. He thinks of ways to keep that feeling of being loved inside him.Hence when he’s watching TV late at night he sees an infomercial about the latest Lokicon camera. The catchphrase  _ captures images that never fade _ intrigues him. He wonders if Cor knew his secret, if that’s why he was given that red camera on his birthday. He hasn’t taken it out too scared to scratch such an important and valuable gift. However he wants to feel loved, is it any wonder why when he takes his first shot he begins to feel happier. 

He’s able to capture these animals. Able to take their candid shots home with him and feel content. Not to mention that helping one or two animals makes him feel better about himself. He feels important, like he does have a purpose. It’s refreshing. 

However, lately he has been feeling on edge when he does take pictures. He swears he can see a fox out the corner of his eyes, always looking at him. Not to mention some images have the tip of a tail, or hidden pointed gray ears concealed in bushes. It becomes a game to Prompto. He wonders when the cat, or fox, or whatever it is will show itself to him properly. Maybe it’s just shy like him, but whatever it is, he hopes he gets to see it one day.

* * *

Prompto doesn’t understand the fuss that is happening at school. His classmates are behaving worse than a pack of animals in heat. They’ve gathered outside the school entrance, pushing against one another, blocking the path towards the main door.

“Do you think he’s coming here?” asks one of the students, standing on their tiptoes to see the main gates.

“Why would the school lie about it?”

Prompto looks behind him, wondering if the “he” in question coming to school is someone he should be worried about. The way the classmates are behaving means it has to be someone important they want to know better. He can’t think of anyone who would fit that description. Then again, he doesn’t keep up with school gossip to know enough about it.

He hears squealing from the girls in front of him and covers his ears as classmates run towards the front entrance. Prompto is shoved and pushed around. He quickly finds a safe spot outside the crowd and hangs back as they circle a boy that just got out of a sleek, black car.

He pushes his glasses up his nose and turns his attention back towards the school entrance. He might be able to get past the crowd and head to his homeroom without the added people touching him. He hasn’t felt comfortable with touch in general since he last saw Asmaria. He climbs the five steps and enters the school, staring at the ground as he walks toward his classroom.

He enters the room and finds his spot over on the right side of the room, in the back closest to the back door. He places his notebook on the table and pulls out his camera, scrolling through the images with ease.

He sees one picture with the mysterious fox ears and saves it to the memory card. He’s going to find it one day. The bell rings and he hears the group of students walking down the hallway nosily chatting as they enter the classroom.

“How many servants do you have?”

“Do you get to eat what you want?”

“Can you buy me a video game? You have money to spare right?”

“Hey, Prince, can I have an autograph?”

_ Prince?  _ Prompto thinks before looking up, eyes catching sight of the boy known as the Prince of Insomnia—Prince Noctis.

Prince Noctis is at their school?! No wonder everyone is freaking out. The prince’s eyes catch hold of his violet ones and at that moment Prompto swears time has stopped. The prince is looking at him. Now he’s walking towards him, leaning towards one of his sides before taking a seat right beside him.

Prompto quickly looks back at his camera, scrolling through image after image. He’s not looking at the images; he can feel the pressure on him already from the other students. He knows what they are thinking. How dare Prompto be anywhere near the Prince? He knows when he’s being glared at.

He hears the mumbling and shuffling of chair and desks scratching against the tile floor as some students move closer to the Prince. He hears a loud sigh and looks overseeing the Prince lean his head against his palm as he closes his eyes.

“So noisy,” he says bluntly to the group of students, not even sparing a glance in their direction. 

“Ah, but Prince Noctis, we’re just curious,” one girl says, scooting her chair closer towards him. “Like, what’s it like in the Citadel?”

“Don’t be rude,” another student chimes in. “Gee, you’d think as a prince you’d have better manners.”

Prompto watches the interaction from his seat. He wants to say something back. Wants to say no one owes them an explanation or owes them attention. Prince or not, they need to just leave the guy alone. He feels his throat close up.

Noctis yawns, still keeping his eyes closed. “Tired.”

Luckily, the teacher decides to walk in gaining the student's attention to settle down and go back to their normal seats. Prompto is grateful for the distraction. It looks like the prince might have needed some help…or maybe not, because who would be dumb enough to bully a prince?

“…We have a new student,” starts the teacher as Prompto turns his attention to the front of the classroom.

“As many of you know, Prince Noctis is joining our school. I expect you to give him the same treatment you would any of your other classmates. Now open your texts to page fifty-six…”

The Prince, or Noctis as Prompto likes to think of him, rubs his head and begins to pull out his pencil from his pencil case. He drops it as it rolls behind his chair right towards Prompto’s desk. Prompto looks at the pencil on the floor and leans over in his seat, stretching to reach the pencil. His shirt rides up over his belly as he grabs the pencil, before hastily stretching out the pencil towards Noctis. He keeps his head down low.

“Thanks,” Noctis says simply, taking the pencil before returning his attention to the lesson. Prompto tries to say something back but his mouth closes before any words can come forth. He offers a simple nod before pulling down his shirt in the front and back. His face turns pink from the interaction as he tries to focus on the lesson in class.

A few hours go by and the bell rings for the lunch break. Students stretch at their desk as some of them grab lunch boxes to take outside. Others hurry to buy something from the school cafeteria. Prompto waits until the crowd has died down before standing up from his desk heading to the back of the classroom to get his lunch. Lunch for him is simple; a bag of chips, some cookies, chicken, and rice, along with some soda to drink. He stays and eats his lunch in the classroom quickly as other students gather and talk among their friends.

Once finished he throws out his lunch bag and heads out of the classroom door, trying to make himself as small as possible when he moves against people in the hallway. He sighs and pulls out his camera, flipping through the pictures as he walks down the hallway.

“Prince Noctis, is it true you can use magic?”

“How big is your room at home?”

“Do you get to buy anything you want?”

Prompto lifts his head and watches as Noctis turns away from the group and walks away, simply saying the toilet. Noctis is heading right for him and Prompto dodges to the side, watching as the prince walks down the hall away from his admirers. He holds his breath before letting out a big sigh. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the prince was lonely, but…how can he be lonely with so many people?

He watches Noctis disappear and looks down at his camera. Maybe…maybe the prince won’t feel so lonely with pictures? Pictures make him happy, and, well, he’s lonely, and Prompto knows he’s lonely, so maybe they might have something in common? Maybe they can be lonely together? It is a wild thought that sprouts in his mind that day, but it is something to think about.

* * *

Weeks go by before he gathers the little bit of courage and will power he has to approach the prince. The other kids made it seem so easy; they just walk up to him and start talking. Prompto fidgets with the clip-on strap of his camera, peeking over the side of the building. It had taken him a few days to figure out where the prince hid during recess.

Prompto had thought the prince stayed in the bathroom for recess and had taken a few days in scripting possible dialogue that could be said in the bathroom without making it awkward. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot he could say to start a conversation. Nothing online helped tell him what to say in the bathroom. So, when he found out the Prince was using the window to jump down to the ground and hide by the P.E. equipment, his plan changed.

He had to rewrite what he wanted to say to the Prince, and may have got distracted once one of his classmates began to cough up green leaves during a lesson. It led to gossip about who that person could like so much their health would be at stake. It also started the reproductive education lesson early for that year.

Reproduction education was a mandatory class for all schools that started for all children as young as ten and was repeated each year with new updates if any were found. More material was discussed as children grew. Eos thought the process of slowly introducing sex education, sexualities, gender identities, and other lessons to students, was a better process than just having an hour-long lecture on basic reproduction that could be found in any book. They found that preparing the growing children to mature into more functional adults with less risk than their counterparts, whose basic sex education was using a piece of paper and stabbing it with a pencil to show the action of sex.

However, even though education was given on the various ways sex, love, and relationships could be formed, some individuals still had archaic views of “proper” sex and family traditions. It was unfortunate, but one of the obstacles that was being fought against constantly.

Either way, most of the attention was drawn towards the person who had their first chance with Hanahaki. Most it was viewed with maturity a sign of the person growing up along with some classic teasing from their friends on who it could be. Prompto didn’t understand that feeling too well. Why would they be happy they are having leaves come from their mouth? It’s painful, it burns, it feels like a constant sore throat mixed with the impending doom of feeling nauseous. It made him feel weak, listless, and just overall did not give him a good feeling when he had his first episode when he was younger. He doesn’t understand why they are celebrating something that, for all purposes, is a deadly disease, but he guesses that maybe it’ll work out. They look average but are cute; they’re not nice but they are a good person sometimes, so maybe it’ll work out between them and whoever they have decided to love. It’s distracting enough he forgets his purpose for a week. The purpose being befriending Noctis.

Noctis hasn’t changed his attitude since he came to school. He’s still aloof and likes to spend time by himself and while he still gets the occasional question asked of him, he has become an old fad. He’s no longer relevant, not compared to someone who is experiencing their first Hanahaki.

Still, he’s able to refocus himself and begin his quest to talk to Noctis. He just wants to talk to him and show him some photos on his camera. It might be a good way to start a conversation; at least, that’s what one online site said for making friends.

Prompto looks over at Noctis hiding out by the equipment shed, kicking the dirt on the ground and looking bored. He takes a deep breath and moves out from behind the wall and walks towards him.

“H-hello,” he starts, gathering his attention. He continues walking, saying the sentence he practiced over and over at home. “I have some pictures on my camera do youuuu,” he squeals at the end, tripping over his own two feet and sliding to the ground.

He holds his hands out in front of him, seeing the unmarked camera and immediately feels thankful it didn’t get any damage. However, he can feel the scraps on his knees sting. Fortunately, that’s the least of his worries. He had just fallen in front of Noctis. He doesn’t have any script planned for falling in front of him. Does he apologize? What exactly can he say?!

Noctis had heard the shuffling and indecisiveness from the blonde thirty minutes before he made his less than the stellar entrance. Weirdly, he’s been having the feeling of being watched for some weeks now and now that he has a face to the stalked, it’s kind of pathetic. How can someone like this blonde be so sneaky but obvious about his intentions at the same time?

He watches the larger boy on the ground check his camera first before checking himself. He doesn’t seem so threatening, but looks can be deceiving; the soft plump boy could be a killer…it’s a very slim chance, but it’s possible. He watches from a distance, slowly approaching the boy who has decided to give up on standing up. He looks down at him and offers his hand out. It would be a nice thing to do. Offer to help him to stand.

Prompto holds out his camera towards him instead.

Both boys stare at each other, confused before Noctis breaks the silence. “Uh, your hand?” 

“Huh,” Prompto says, blinking before it dawns on him. He flushes before securing the camera strap around his wrist and grabbing Noctis' hand.

Time seems to stop as soon as both boys’ clasp hands. Noctis feels the humming in his arm, feels the static traveling through his body. He can feel that raw power moving through his body. It’s magic! The magic that has killed his guardians. The magic that has hurt his friends. He releases his hand from Prompto’s grasp quickly, letting Prompto fall to the ground once more.

“Don’t touch me,” he sneers, backing away from him, “Stay away from me. You’re disgusting,” he says before running away from Prompto.

Prompto doesn’t understand what he could have possibly done to offend the Prince. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He just wanted to talk to him, and he fell. He couldn’t even stand to touch him. He called him disgusting for a reason, meaning whatever the reason is, it has to be him. He stands up, wiping the dirt from his scrapes. He takes in a deep breath, trying to control the shudder. He can feel his emotions piling up, can feel it about to tip over. He’s not going to cry over something stupid. He knew it was never going to work. He never should have tried, but he’s not going to cry over it.

He lies to himself, wiping his eyes with the end of his shirt as he heads back inside the school, towards the desk where he belongs. He doesn’t deserve to try anything new. He doesn’t deserve friends or talking to anyone.


	7. Phlox

Noctis still feels on edge from what happened today. He knows he’s not crazy, he felt magic come from that boy or surround that boy. It doesn’t make sense, so he asked Ignis about it. Maybe he knew of different magics other than the Crystal. He didn’t want to bother his dad over something silly.

“Noctis can you repeat what you did again?” Ignis asks, rubbing his temple.

“Ugh. I tried to help him up, felt magic, and ditched out,” he answers. “It felt the same as when I lost control with Gladio. I didn’t want to hurt him…so I ran.”

“Yes, and you told him the reason why you left so soon,” he asks, although it’s not really a question.

“…no. But he should have felt the magic too and understand why,” Noctis whines. “But that’s small stuff—can this guy have magic or not?”

Ignis sighs. “There are many magics that are not related to the Crystal so it is a possibility; however, it would be increasingly rare to have someone with an ability not related to the Crystal while in Insomnia.”

“…”

Ignis groans. “The short answer is no. And you should apologize to him tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Noctis, if I have to tell you that I have failed at my job,” he sighs, picking up his dirty laundry and throwing it in the hamper. “Just get some rest and you can fix it tomorrow.”

Noctis rolls his eyes, “Fine, fine. Tomorrow, I got it.”

Ignis looks at him with an eyebrow raised before turning the lights off. Noctis sighs and snuggles down under the covers taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He can’t wait to go to his dreamland. Carbuncle had mentioned something new happening, or meeting someone. He wonders who it could be; maybe one of Carbuncle’s friends or daemons? He’s not sure, but he is excited to move around without pain.

He feels the magic flowing through him, feels the pull as he’s taken through a swirling tube of light, and grins. It’s one of the new upgrades he added to his dream world. It’s cool—plus the anime he watched had the main character do something like this too. It was awesome.

He lands on the grass and grins, looking around. Various creatures change form and great him with their single phrase. He had made them, so it’s nice to see that the Moogle he made when he was nine is still around. They puff out of existence as he walks down the path heading towards the familiar moss-covered rocks. He spots Carbuncle and smiles.

“Carbuncle!”

Carbuncle turns around and offers a small squeak. “Noctis, you are sleeping so soon?”

“Hmm, yeah, I went to school again today,” he sighs, sand around his ankles rising. “I don’t like it. They always ask so many questions, and their questions are stupid too.”

Carbuncle jumps on his shoulder. “Questions are not stupid…but I think asking the same questions can be frustrating.”

Noctis nods his head as he begins to walk towards the pier. Carbuncle gently nibs his ear. “I want to show you someone, before you head to the pier.”

Noctis scrunches his eyebrows confused. “You never showed me anyone before?”

“I know, which makes this meeting much more special,” they say as Noctis frowns. “Oh, don’t pout. I have a feeling you’ll like them.”

Noctis sighs. “Yeah, but what if they don’t like me? And I thought everything here was made up in my mind so how can they be here if it’s my mind?” He holds Carbuncle in front of him like a dangling cat. “Did something enter my head?!”

Carbuncle paws at Noctis who drops him on the ground. Carbuncle lands with ease and sighs. “Nothing has entered your head, there are no intruders in your mind. But there is a connection of similar energy that has linked with you.”

“I don’t get it,” he says bluntly.

Carbuncle walks in front of Noctis and sighs. “You are getting older, Noctis. And with that, your link to the Crystal increases.” Noctis looks over at the looming dark purple-blue crystal spot in the distance. “With that link comes power and with power… ”

“Don’t say responsibility,” he groans. “It was in a game, and the hero was cool, but it was all guilt.”

Carbuncle blinks up at him. “I wasn’t going to say responsibility. I was going to say decisions. The point is, your power to the crystal is growing and you are controlling it very well for your age,” Carbuncle says as Noctis grins, puffing his chest out. “However, have you ever wondered why your father feels so weak after using the Crystal’s power?”

Noctis looks away. “He’s not weak. He just has a bad injury…it flares up sometimes, just like my back.”

Carbuncle stops and looks up at him. “It is not just an old injury that bothers him. The Crystal feeds on him,” Carbuncle says sadly. “I am sorry you have not been told this, but your father probably did it to shield you from it.”

“You mean my dad—” he starts as Carbuncle nods their head. “But there has to be a way to stop it or something, right?”

Carbuncle closed their eyes. “I do not know. However, I think having a connection with someone lessens the burden. I think when your father had to disband his friends for the good of the kingdom and then lost his wife, his burden on the Crystal increased. It is in no way your fault, Noctis. Do you understand?”

Noctis shrugs. “I understand,” he starts as the sand begins to rise to his calves. “But I still feel it is…is that ok?”

Carbuncle inclines their head. “It is as long as you do not dwell on those feelings long. I have given you a shock when I did not want to.”

Noctis nods. “Yeah my dad could…Carbuncle, is that why you want me to meet this person?”

Carbuncle squeaks in approval. “In part, yes. I feel they are a good match for you, energy-wise, and, well, I think you two will get along well.”

“Hmm, I guess so,” he says, looking down at his feet. The sand still swirls around the middle of his calves, and, now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t feel so great meeting this person. They might be disappointed. Sure, the dreamland allows him to feel normal and more energized than in the real world, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t carried his scars with him into this world. He still looks small, sickly, even, and the scar on his back is still there. Not to mention his overall relaxed appearance isn’t that great to look at. He’s felt the bumps under his chin forming recently. Ignis has said he was lucky it was only on his chin; just a few tiny pimples.

Poor Ignis, it seemed he couldn’t catch a break lately, between the voice cracking and acne that had appeared on his face what seemed like overnight. He hadn’t been handling it well. Noctis just hopes he won’t have to go through the voice cracking or if he does, he’ll just keep quiet and not say a word until it’s done. He doesn’t think Ignis would tease him over it but Gladio would. Gladio hasn’t stopped calling Ignis out on all his flaws since it started. Something about Ignis not being perfect all the time, and how it’s finally happening? He’s not sure. They have been acting weird with one another lately.

Noctis nearly steps on Carbuncle’s tail and looks down at the fox who is staring out in the distance. “Carbuncle?”

“We are here.”

Noctis looks around and frowns seeing nothing. It looks like he is walking on stars of the night sky and the area has hues of dark blues and purples that move like clouds above him. He looks down at Carbuncle whose horn is glowing red as they wave their tail, looking out in the distance.

“I don’t…” Noctis pauses, looking through the darkness and seeing a soft yellow glow coming out in the distance. He walks towards the glowing image and begins to hear crying. It doesn’t sound right; it sounds, well, like crying, but as if they are trying to hold it in and failing.

Noctis quietly sees the glowing shape and…it looks like the image shifts and changes, showing a boy with blonde hair. The image is difficult to keep straight as he looks at the boy’s back. One moment it’s clear and shows a white and brown shirt, the next it shows a white tank before switching the clothes or what should be clothing over the boy. The clothes move in and out of focus constantly, until landing on a red tank top; however the image of the boy never seems to focus into view fully.

“Why are you crying?” he asks the blurry image bluntly. The glowing boy gasps and turns around, staring at Noctis.

“Who…who are you?” the boy asks, backing away and looking around worriedly. He pulls his tank top down over his stomach. “Why are you in my head?”

Noctis looks down at Carbuncle, confused. “Can he not see me?”

“I see you…I just don’t know who you are, or why you are here?”

Noctis raises an eyebrow. “You…you don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

Carbuncle intervenes. “Well, this seems to be very strange. Why don’t you both introduce yourself.”

“A talking fox?” the glowing boy asks. “A fox can talk…so I have to be dreaming. A dream…ok, everything isn’t real then,” he sniffles, wiping his eyes.

Carbuncle nudges Noctis. “Introduce yourself,” they hiss.

Noctis looks at the glowing boy whose image never stays in one consistent view. It’s very strange. “Uh. Hi, I’m Noc—” he starts before Carbuncle nips his ankle. He yelps and rubs his ankle. “Uh, Noctgar. You?”

“Um, why do you want to know?” he asks, rubbing his head and looking down.

“Because I can’t keep calling you glowing boy,” he huffs. “Geez, you’re weird.”

“Y-yeah well you’re weird,” the glowing boy counters back before turning around facing his back towards Noctis.

“Oh, nice. Come back. Geez, I just want to know your name, not something serious…or a nickname?”

The glowing boy turns around. “I guess you can call me Prom…so where is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it feels real…like I’m awake, but nothing looks right. I mean your shape keeps shifting and I can’t see your face enough to figure out who it is. It’s a little scary.”

“Well, I can’t see your face either; it’s like looking at something and it switches too fast…except your eyes.”

“Yeah, that’s the same thing I’m seeing, too. You have blue eyes, right?”

“Yeah, and yours are purple…or blue?”

Prom shrugs. “Violet…I know, they’re weird.”

“What? No way, they’re kind of cool. It’s like the superhero Toraz,” he says, before flushing in embarrassment.

“Toraz? Oh, do you play Dungeon Stars too?” he asks excitedly. “I keep messing up on the horseback riding part.”

“Naw, that’s easy,” Noctis says, waving his hand. “You gotta feed your horse greens and the yellow flower.”

“But the flower is poisonous,” Prom says, confused.

“Not if you give the horse three greens and then the flower. It makes your horse go faster when the bandits come.”

“Oh, really?” he asks excitedly. “I should remember that…I hope I do once I wake up from the dream.” He smiles.

“Well, I usually remember when I come here.”

Prom looks at him, bewildered. “When you come here? Isn’t this just a dream?”

Noctis shrugs. “Sort of. I don’t know how you got here, but Carbuncle says you are helpful, or will be?” Prom frowns at that comment as Noctis rubs his head. “But to be honest, I’m kind of glad you’re here, ‘cause now I have someone to talk about Dungeon Stars.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” he says as Carbuncle nudges him.

“It’s time to go,” Carbuncle says.

“Time to go?”

“Yeah, it means we’re waking up,” Noctis says. “So, see you tomorrow night?”

“Wait, wait I’ll see you again?” Prom asks as everything begins to fade quickly before his eyes.

* * *

Prompto lays in bed, gasping for air as he rolls out of bed, landing on the floor. He winces as he sits up, rubbing his nose from the impact. It stings, but it doesn’t feel like it’s broken; maybe just a little bruised. He sits up, wiping the tears from last night

He had barely made it home yesterday after his run-in with the prince calling him disgusting. He’s thankful it didn’t happen in front of anyone, but it still hurt to be called disgusting. It’s not like he can change how he looks. He pulls down his tank top over his belly and sighs as he sits up.

“That dream was so weird,” he says, sitting back on his bed as he yawned. “Noctgar? That sounds like a fish.”

He looks over at his clock and sees that it’s almost time for him to wake up for school. He feels a lump form in his throat. Maybe he could stay home today. It’s not liked his parents will know; well, they did figure out when he skipped last time because he was sick. They were more upset at being called by the school than the fact he was sick and spitting up flowers over them. He clears his throat, looking over at his clock once more with a frown.

Just because the prince was a jerk doesn’t mean he shouldn’t go to school. He’ll just avoid him…even though he sits less than a few feet away from him. Maybe he can change seats. He’s sure one of the other students would like to seat next to the prince. They might even look better next to him, maybe not be so disgusting.

He feels his eyes prickle and pushes his hands on his eyes quickly. He doesn’t need to cry anymore. His eyes are plenty red and sore from crying last night. He just needs to ignore it… or maybe not be so disgusting? Maybe that’s why everyone has been mean to him, maybe that’s why his parents never spend time with him, maybe that’s why he had a different babysitter every month.

He frowns and sniffs his under his arm; it smells sour as he crinkles his nose. Maybe he just smelled? He did sweat a lot so that could be the problem. His alarm blares turning on the most recent radio station, startling him.

Prompto shakes his head and stands up. “I’m not disgusting…I don’t think so, so…so I’ll just get a shower and it’ll be better.”

He nods his head, determined, and grabs his clothes for school before heading towards the shower. He makes sure to ignore his image in the mirror when he enters the bathroom. He already knows what he’ll find in the mirror; there’s no need to make his morning any worse than it already is.

* * *

Noctis yawns as Ignis tries to wake him for the fourth time.

“Noctis, if you don’t get out of bed this instant, I’ll pour ice water on you,” he threatens as he taps Noctis on the shoulder.

Noctis groans and moves in bed, sighing loudly. “Alright, Iggy, I’m up,” he yawns, staring at Ignis from his bed. He raises an eyebrow at Ignis. “Uh, dude, what’s that on your face?”

Ignis keeps himself collected as well as a teenager can manage with a pre-teen. “Cream for my face, of course.”

“Yeah, but what’s it for?” he snorts. “You look like a melted marshmallow,” he laughs as Ignis doesn’t move a muscle.

“Noctis, I know it is early but that was uncalled for,” he snaps.

Noctis winces at Ignis’s tone. “Specs, why are you acting weird?”

“I am not acting weird, as you say, but I  _ am _ disappointed that you have yet to learn manners.” He turns towards the bedroom door. “Get ready for school, Noctis.”

Noctis watches Ignis leave the room, more serious and reserved than he has seen him before. He shrugs and begins his morning routine of crawling out of bed slowly. He turns himself onto his back in the bed before rolling himself on his side like a log and using one of his arms to prop himself up. He winces, feeling his back ache as he takes a moment to let the pain set in before he sets his feet on the ground and stands. He moves slowly towards the dresser and stretches on his toes before reaching inside and pulling out the first shirt he sees. It takes a while but soon he has dressed himself and is heading towards the breakfast table where he sees Ignis eating a bowl of fruit. The cream that was on his face earlier is gone and instead, his face looks beet red, as if he had been in the sun all day.

“Ignis,” Noctis starts. “Your face is red…like, really red. Does it hurt?”

“It stings, but it will be healed soon enough,” he says after finishing his bite. “Don’t bother yourself with it.”

Noctis shrugs and sits down at the table as Ignis rises and retrieves a bowl of fruit for Noctis along with his normal cereal that has more sugar than substance. Noctis wrinkles his nose at the fruit and pushes it towards Ignis.

“Too many blueberries,” he says before digging into his dry cereal. Milk makes it too soggy and just makes it taste weird. “And, uh, sorry for calling you a marshmallow.”

“Hmm…I suppose I did look odd when waking you this morning,” he says, embarrassed. “My apologies.”

“A little, but why’d you put cream on your face?”

“I would have thought it would be obvious,” he says, looking at Noctis. “Appearances are important to most people. Can’t have your future advisor looking so disgusting, right?” he asks as Noctis winces.

“But you aren’t. You just have bumps on your face, it's not that big a deal…wait are you teaching me something?” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Am I?” He grins. “I suppose I might be. Perhaps an apology is in order for someone at your school?”

Noctis fidgets his hands under the table. “I guess…I didn’t mean to say it, though, so why should I apologize?”

“Whether you meant it or not, you said it. I don’t doubt who you said it to will still have felt hurt.”

“Yeah.” He frowns. “Iggy, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, but I think you should head off to school and apologize to that boy.”

“I will.”

* * *

Noctis sort of lied.

Well, Noctis didn’t exactly  _ lie; _ he just didn’t know how to approach the boy that was only a few feet away from him in the classroom. Usually, people went up to him and talked to him, not the other way around. It wasn’t that he never had to start a conversation—more that he didn’t enjoy the work going into conversations. It was annoying.

So, when he sees the boy sitting beside him, he tries to talk to him. Opens his mouth but instead leans over, watching as the boy scrolls through pictures of various animals.

“Cute dog,” he says not realizing he has spoken out loud.

The boy looks up at him from his camera face, turning pink as he turns back towards his camera. Noctis winces and tries to think of anything to say the conversation and fails.

“Uh sorry.” He blurts out to him.

“F-for what,” Prompto asks softly. “You’re fine.”

Noctis had never been good at explaining himself. He rubs the back of his head. “Just you know yesterday.”

“O-oh,” Prompto says shyly before returning to his camera ignoring Noctis.

“Um, I said sorry?”

“I know,” Prom says looking down at the camera. “I heard you.”

“…Ok, so bye,” Noctis says, returning to his seat. That guy sure is weird. He gave him an apology and nothing else happened? No thanks, or anything, and he was ignored?! Noctis crosses his arms over his chest, annoyed.

* * *

That night Noctis enters his dreamland again and sees Carbuncle purring in Prom’s arms. The traitor was cuddling against Prom so soon.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Prom looks up from scratching Carbuncle’s belly and gasps,. “You’re the same guy from last night?!”

“Uh, yeah. Noct—Noctgar,” he amends as he looks at Prom petting Carbuncle. “Carbuncle, why does he get to pet you?”

“Because,” they squeak. “Softest pets are my weakness.” Prom snorts while Noctis looks unamused.

“Carbuncle, isn’t that scary? Yesterday he looked more unorganized and flimsier, and now he looks solid and bigger,” Noctis says, worried, as Prom stops petting Carbuncle.

“Noctis.”

Noctis stares at Prompto, his image coming in clearer than it was yesterday. “You’re not so dreamlike…like you were. That means,” he starts, sand around his ankles rising as it spins. “I can hurt you here.”

“But it’s a dream here?”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve got hurt here before…I just woke up in my bed scared, but it still hurt, so I can hurt you if you are more solid and—“ He pokes Prom in the arm, feeling the skin squish under his finger. “You’re soft.”

Prom bites his lip. “I know that. I see it all the time,” he snaps.

“But isn’t this scary?”

“I don’t know. What should I be scared of, if this is just one big dream?” he asks, confused.

“Ugh, you don’t get it—everyone I stay around gets hurt,” he says, sand rising around his legs as the scenery begins to change. “And if you’re more real here, then you can get hurt! I could hurt you and you might not wake up!”

Carbuncle nips at him. “Noctis, you know that isn’t true. You wake up if you are hurt or injured.”

“No, it can’t be true,” he protests, panicking. “Carbuncle, why’d you bring him here? He’s going to get hurt because of me. He’s going to die because of me, ‘cause that’s all I bring.” He gasps for air, holding his chest tightly.

This was a terrible idea. What was he thinking last night, talking to Prom about stupid Dungeon Stars?! He thought this would only be a one-time thing, and maybe he was having a dream within a dream last night, because Carbuncle bringing this unknown guy into his dreams, or  _ whatever _ is happening right now, is stupid. It’s careless, as Ignis would say, and just plain dumb on his part for even entertaining the idea.

He’d rather the Crystal destroy him , like it’s doing to his dad, then even have the thought of hurting Prom. He might not know him at all, but that doesn’t mean he wants him killed because he simply exists and death follows him wherever he goes.

“Noctgar,” says a voice slowly. “Can I hold your hand?”

Noctis looks over at the one called Prom and shakes his head, backing away. The scenery from before is swirling with a mix of colors as the ground beneath them begins to disappear. Noctis panics, jumping back from the cracking ground.

“I tried the greens trick,” Prom blurts out, looking at Noctis worriedly. “You told me about it yesterday; how you gotta give the greens and then the flower to the horse, and it worked. I got past that level. It was really difficult to do too.”

Noctis nods his head, unable to form words at the moment.

“So, thanks for telling me that, and, um, I don’t know why this is happening, or why you think you could hurt me,” he says, unsure. “Not that you couldn’t, but I don’t think you would. So, can you tell me more about what I should do after that level in Dungeon Stars? After getting the horse and passing the bandits I didn’t know what I should do first.”

Noctis tries to say something—anything—but his voice is gone just like it was before in the real world. He feels the lump in his throat and clenches his fist.

“Or…or we do something else…like you said last time this is a dream place right so does that mean you can make anything here or you made everything here?”

Noctis raises an eyebrow at Prom and nods his head. Prom’s eyes widen in shock. “You made this whole place?”

Noctis nods his head again.

Prom gasps. “Whoa—that’s cool and must have taken a lot of time to do. It looks so real…and it feels real, too,” Prom says looking over at Noctis with a nervous smile. He rubs his wrist. “Um, it must be a lot to take in, and, well, me being here too must be a lot but…don’t know how I get here when I dream. I just wake up here and it’s weird, but not bad ‘cause you are here.”

“Why?”

“Hmm, why?”

“Why does it,” he feels the lump in his throat return, and grunts. “Me here is ok?”

“I, uh…yeah,” he says shyly. “I don’t know you a lot yet, but you talked to me and you made me feel better, when I was crying yesterday. That’s not a good way to meet someone,” he says looking at his shoes. “But you weren’t mean about it.”

“Why would I be mean over crying?” he asks, confused.

Prom laughs. “I don’t know…seems like something people do.” He looks at Noctis and smiles. “You talked to me yesterday, and didn’t ignore me when you could have, and that’s something that doesn’t happen often?”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he starts before rubbing his head, Noctis’ words from the real world entering his head. “It just does? I guess something is wrong with me, but you don’t care about it, so it’s nice.”

“…I don’t understand why something would be wrong with you, but you seem pretty alright to me,” Noctis says, offering a small smile. “You survived one of my, uh, less-than-great breakdowns.”

Prom nods his head. “I don’t think it was that bad…it was a little scary, but you were very worried, and anxiety isn’t fun to deal with. It’s annoying, and frustrating, so I understand that a bit, or a little at least.”

“Still, sorry you had to see it,” he manages to get out.

“It’s fine,” he says before looking at Noctis. “So, can you make anything here?”

Noctis grins. “Yeah…or, almost anything. Carbuncle helps sometimes and they taught me how to make stuff too,” he says, excitedly. “Wanna see the pier? I made it look green and the fish all look cool, too—extra dorsal fins and tails.”

Prom nods his head. “Yeah, that sounds fun.” He glances over at Nocti, looking around. “But I don’t see a pier?”

Noctis grins and points behind him as a pier appears, making Prom gasp. “You made it appear out of thin air?!”

Noctis laughs. “Sort of? It’s hard to explain; I had to remember what it looked like to bring it here. But hurry; before we wake up, I wanna show you my hook collection. They’re so cool,” he says excitedly as Prom begins to follow him towards the pier.

Carbuncle watches as both boys head to the pier and smiles at the interaction. Maybe this one called Prom will be able to help the prince. Guide him, or at least offer him comfort for the coming trials ahead. Carbuncle looks at the pulsing blue and purple crystal in the distance and frowns. Noctis has yet to confront that trauma, but maybe this boy will make it easier. He hopes so, at least.

* * *

Weeks pass quickly and each night Noctgar and Prom meet in their dreams, experimenting with the land. Noctgar has had a few years to get used to the strange world and its rules. Prom, on the other hand, is just starting to understand how to make images appear. Just simple images that can’t move or interact.

Prom sighs as he looks at Noctgar. “I can’t get it to do anything else but be a picture image. How do you get it to move?”

Noctgar shrugs. “I don’t know, it just does…but it took a lot of practice to do it,” he says, seeing Prom look disappointed at his answer.

“Carbuncle says sometimes you can’t make things here, if something in the real world is bothering you, Maybe that’s it?”

Prom flinches. “Uh… I guess.”

Noctgar frowns. “Hey, you can tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbles.

“Well, it must be if you can only make images so far,” he starts. “I know you can do more; like last week you made it move a little,” he says unsure.

Prom nods his head. “Yeah, I did. Noctgar do you think I’m disgusting?”

Noctgar narrows his eyes. “Who told you that? I’ll beat them up, or scare them, or something at least.”

Prom shrugs his shoulders. “Someone important.”

Noctgar crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, can’t be too important if they said that.”

Prom frowns. “I guess. I just think that maybe they are right? They said sorry later, but I think they wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” Noctgar says. “You’re fun to hang out with, even if it’s just dreams and you shouldn’t waste time on that loser, whoever they are so there.”

Prom snorts. “Yeah? Maybe you’re right.”


	8. Aconite

Prompto awakens after that moment. He groans, annoyed at being interrupted in the dream. He hopes Noctgar won’t think it is rude. But he has started a new routine for himself. Noctgar thinks he’s not gross, so that is great in and of itself, but why does he still feel gross after hearing it?

He’s tried to keep his real life out of the dream world with Noctgar as much as he can, but that’s difficult to do when Noctgar asks so many questions about him, about his interests as if he really cares. It’s strange to have that communication and interest from someone other than his last babysitter Asmaria.

Prompto sighs as he sits over the edge of his bed, alarm still blaring. He pushes the button and turns it off, seeing the time read 4:30 am. Noctgar might not think he’s gross, but it’s difficult to use only one person’s opinion compared to the many telling him otherwise.

He stretches in bed before walking towards the living room with the long-standing mirror. He sees his camera to the side of the table and picks it up, turning it on. He takes a deep breath and stares into the mirror, holding the camera to the side to get his full view before snapping a picture.

He reviews the picture and winces. He can still see the fat in his cheeks. The wobbling fat under his chin that looks more like a turkey gobbler. His tank top hugs his curves, the fatty pieces of his upper chest that look like breasts, the curve of his belly poking above the tank top. He frowns as he sets the camera down on the table by the mirror and walks back to his room, trying not to glance in the mirror as he walks back.

He quickly changes his PJs into a sweatsuit, ignoring the image that keeps popping into his head about how his body is shaped all wrong. The sweatsuit fits him snuggly, and is a little warm to wear but, in his research, he heard of sweating to get rid of more calories, and getting rid of calories would decrease his weight. Maybe if he weighed less, he wouldn’t be as disgusting. The prince wasn’t specific on what he found disgusting; if it was his face, his voice, or just him in general. He couldn’t change his face or voice, but the weight is something he could change. Maybe it would make him less disgusting.

He finishes lacing up his shoes and takes a deep breath before starting a small jog through his neighborhood. It’s excruciating; his knees sting and feel like he’s jogging on pins and needles, his legs feel like tenderized meat, and his chest feels too tight. He can barely get a breath in when he jogs for barely a few hundred feet. He pants walking slowly, gasping for breathing as he holds his side.

Running sucks. He hates it. Hates how it makes him feel like an aching furnace turned on in summer. He feels sweat rolling down his back, hiding in the folds of his skin as he walks slowly, trying to gain control of his movement. There has to be a better way to do this. A quicker way to get better than this. He feels a rush of air pass him and sees the track runner from the last time he ran. He yells towards the man in the green tracksuit, gaining the man’s attention.

Apparently, what Prompto had been doing to lose weight was completely wrong. The track star—whose name he learned was Valen—had explained to him how he was exercising was wrong. He should start off slow and not expect to be perfect at it on the first round. Prompto had been forcing himself to finish the run even if he felt exhausted and weak.

When he mentioned his eating habits, Valen had only shaken his head and offered healthier suggestions. Just eating a salad and fruit for his meals wasn’t enough to give him a balanced diet.

“But salads are good for weight loss,” Prompto argued.

“Bro, if you only eat salads and fruit, that stuff is only going to make you poop everything out. I mean, good fiber, but ya need more than fiber, bro,” he laughs as Prompto's face turns pink. “Aww, little bro don’t feel bad. I just don’t want ya passing out over something like weight loss.”

“But I have to lose weight.”

“Uh, who said that, little bro?”

“Everyone,” he says upset. “I’m disgusting, and this is the only thing I can change to not be so disgusting.”

“Whoa, bro, whoever said that is an idiot. You’re, what, ten?”

“Twelve.”

“Whoa, twelve. Ok, bro; you’re still growing, so going on a diet like you did hurts your body, you know. I mean, if you wanna exercise for you and feel better that’s great, but don’t do it ‘cause of some douche who called ya disgusting, ok, bro?” He pats Prompto on the shoulder.

“Hey, I got a idea, bro. You get up this early often?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. So I’ll help ya out ‘til I go back to college, ok? Then you can handle it from there, so we’re going to get some protein and carbs, alright?”

“I can’t, I have school,” he says bluntly.

“Whoa, bro, running before school. That’s so adult,” he laughs. “Cool, cool so we get some fast protein and carbs and then you can go to school. Don’t worry, I’ll start running with ya, ‘cause ya shouldn’t run alone so early in the morning. People be crazy.”

“I…I guess,” he, says walking by the taller man. “You’re nice.”

“Hell ya, bro. Kappa Theta’s the best bro.” He beams, giving Prompto a thumbs up. “Now let’s get some good eats and ya can go to school. Full bellies are happy bellies.”

Prompto winces looking down at his belly. “Maybe.”

“Aw, why do you look so sad? Bellies are good soft and full of love…and make awesome pillows for laying on your friend, Kay who is so smart, you wonder why the guy hangs with ya…uh, anyway, bellies are awesome so don’t dis it, just feed it.”

Prompto looks up at the man and snorts. “Ok, I guess.” He wonders if Valen is just saying things to make him feel better, or if having a belly isn’t a bad thing. How could it be good? It just gets in the way and looks awkward in any shirt he wears, not to mention the pink and white stretch marks on his waist that bulge or deflate depending on his position. Maybe Valen’s friend Kay doesn’t have them. Maybe there’s a way to get rid of them?

Prompto gets in line with Valen at the street market for breakfast.

“Valen, does Kay have marks?”

“Marks?”

“Like, um,” he says, pointing at his side, “the scars.”

“Oh, ya mean stretch marks bro? Uh, yeah, I think so. Why?”

Prompto frowns. “He has them?”

“Uh yeah,” he asks raising an eyebrow, “most soft bellies come with a few of them.”

“But…but isn’t that gross?”

“Hell no, bro,” he says as a few customers look at the two before grumbling in line. Valen rubs the back of his head. “Heh, no way, bro. It’s all part of the package. I mean, sure, they might look weird, but they’re a part of Kay and totally natural. They ain’t so bad, either. They’re kind of unique, and I even got some, see?” he says, bending down so he can see the stretch marks in his arms. “Most peeps get them, it ain’t a big deal. Just means ya grew and junk. So, don’t worry about them, little bro.”

Prompto gives the man a small smile. “I…I’ll try,” he says. Valen grins at him as they wait in line for breakfast.

“Cool answer, little dude,” he says, patting Prompto on the back

* * *

Even with Valen’s new routine, and the kind words spoken to him about weight loss, Prompto still feels inadequate. He can’t erase the years of remarks made to him throughout the years. It’s not as if they vanish just because one person gave him a different perspective or hope. He still has to interact with his school mates, who still look to gain attention from Noctis the prince in their classroom. Frankly, his classmates can have the prince. He’s been nothing but a jerk that gave a simple apology that felt forced more than genuine. Prompto doesn’t have time to deal with that. He may have given Noctis a second chance before but he’s better than begging for friendship from someone who only sees him as disgusting. He’s not going to waste time with the guy. His classmates can entertain themselves with him all they want. They’ll see his true self eventually.

Prompto stares at his camera for a while and sighs. It’s the third time today this guy has asked Noctis question, after question, after question. It’s getting annoying to Prompto, even hearing the high pitch  _ ooo’s _ and  _ ahh’s _ over the prince who doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the attention. He can’t stand it anymore and gathers his belongings. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to have eye contact with the boy asking all the questions.

“Can we trade seats?” he asks, earning Noctis’ attention.

“Why do you want to trade seats?” Noctis interrupts.

“Because he wants to ask you questions all the time, and it would be better if he was closer to you, right?”

“Uh, I guess but— “

“Oh, come on, Noctis, let them trade seats. It’s not a big deal,” laughs one of their classmates.

“Prompto was taking up too much space, anyway, blocking your view,” giggles one of the girls. Prompto face flushes as Noctis doesn’t say a word to defend him. Prompto ignores the giggling, and carries his belongings to the other’s seat as they trade spots.

Prompto pulls out his camera and stares at the first image, fingers unable to skip to the next one. It’s a picture of a pure white dog trying to get out from underneath a fence. He feels the tingling behind his eyes and takes in a deep breath, face turning red as he tries to hold in his emotions. Some prince didn’t even stand up for someone. Prompto lets out a shaky sigh. What did he expect from someone like Noctis? He won’t give the prince the time of day. As far as he’s concerned, he can go choke on a carrot.

* * *

“Whoa, that dude sounds like such a jerk,” says Noctgar, lying by Prom on the made-up grass looking up at the swirling stars in the sky.

“He didn’t even say anything. Just let them talk about me and nothing happened,” he growls out.

“Oh, wow…you sound angry.”

“I am angry.” He pouts. “He’s so stupid but he made me feel angry and upset with everything about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I told you I was exercising more,” he starts as Noctgar nods his head.

“Yeah, which I said was stupid, ‘cause your soft and nice already. Why improve?”

Prom nods his head. “Well I was doing it for him so he would—I don’t know—defend me? Or…at least not look at me like I’m the worst thing around.”

“He sounds like a total dick.”

Prom snorts. “Might as well be…a talking dick.”

“Nothing good comes out of him.” Noctgar winks as Prom makes a look of disgust.

“Ugh, gross. Don’t put that in my head. But I still feel bad for him, too.” He frowns.

“See, you’re too nice.”

“Well, he looks lonely…like, he doesn’t have many friends but he’s surrounded by them, too.”

“Well, he should be nicer like you, then, Prom.” Noctgar smiles before resting his arms behind his head. “Can’t push people away all the time.”

Prom raises an eyebrow, turning to look at Noctgar. “Uh, isn’t that what your friend Iggy said?”

“W-well yeah, but it’s true, right?” he says, getting flustered. “He’s been acting so weird and Gladio, too.”

“What’s weird?”

“I don’t know. First it was Specs getting all emotional over his appearance ‘cause he got called crater face. Add in the braces his uncle forced him to wear to correct his overbite, and he’s been having a rough time. Gladio hasn’t stopped teasing him about everything, and then they blew up on each other.”

Noctgar doesn’t go into full detail of how they blew up on each other. Ignis throwing a well-timed elemental fireball while Gladio barely blocking the attack after he called Ignis a walking stick with glasses. They’ve always teased each other but it’s always been mellow; it’s never escalated to the point it has recently.

“Are they brothers?”

“No, they’re, uh, my friends. We go to the same training place and have fun. Gladio is just being more blunt than usual, and I guess Iggy is tired of it?”

Prom frown. “He might be getting bullied, and Gladio teasing him might have been too much.”

“But Gladio has always teased him,” he says, confused.

“But it might be different…if you—if you called me ugly, I’d still feel hurt even if it was teasing. Words hurt, Noctgar.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I guess they do.” He looks over at Prom and reaches for his hand. “You’re not ugly, Prom, and I’d never call you ugly, either.”

“Th-Thanks,” he sputters out, looking up at the sky. “Hey, does that crystal looking thing look like it’s getting closer?”

Noctgar shrugs. “Might be. Carbuncle says I have to face it one day, but having you by my side will make it better? I don’t know what they mean, but I guess that means we gotta stay friends for a long, long time. Right, Prom?”

Prom nods his head. “Yeah…hey, do you think we can make an amusement park?”

Noctgar grins. “Like that DLC game with the assassins and stuff?!”

“Yeah! Let’s make one of those,” Prom says excitedly, sitting up excited. The previous discussion they had before was dismissed from their minds soon. Before their eyes Noctis and Prom began to recreate the world into an image of a medieval like setting to play out their amusement park dream.


	9. Edelweiss

Noctis is over the fighting. Ignis and Gladio had been fighting for the last week, and it was just getting on his last nerve. Plus, he was tired of seeing Ignis attack the already dead meat. He was tenderizing the pork chop, but if he hammered it any further it would be more like a flat pork pancake.

Noctis clears his throat and sees Ignis pause before placing the hammer down. “Yes, Noctis.”

“You look upset?”

“Oh…my apologies,” he says pushing his glasses up. “I will refrain from appearing upset—“

“What? No, Iggy. I’m worried. You’ve been upset and Gladio has been weird with you too, and it’s just—not right? Is he being a dick? I’ll warp strike him—or I’ll try to.”

Ignis chuckles. “Getting defensive, are we? That’s new.” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” he says, looking anywhere but Ignis. “I’ve been thinking about it is all,” he says out loud, not wanting to tell Ignis about Prom. He doesn’t want Ignis to panic or try to stop him from having dreams altogether. Prom is special; he’s a friend, and he’s not willing to lose him over Ignis being protective. It’s only a little lie, anyway.

Noctis sits in the chair. “I’m just worried, Ignis. I don’t want my friends fighting, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Like. Did I start something between both of you?” he asks, brows furrowing.

Ignis wipes his hands with a dishtowel and stands by Noctis. “You did no such thing. I am—” He rubs his temples. “The issue with Gladio is complicated.”

“Yeah? In what way?” he asks curiously. “If he’s being a jerk…”

“I know. You’ll warp strike him.” He smiles. “As much as I would like to see that happen, he does not deserve it. I feel unsure if I should be telling you something so personal. Perhaps it would be better to have the procedure done than this constant state of stress.”

“Procedure?” He asks worriedly. “Ignis, are you dying?”

“Gradually, yes, but we all are,” he says, rubbing his chest. “Mine just appears to have come a little faster than expected, and why prolong the inevitable?”

“You’re going to die?!”

“Oh, Astrals, no. I’m just going to remove a part of myself. Noctis, I have been hiding this from you for this very reason. I did not want to worry you over something so insignificant.” He adjusts his glasses once more and looks down at the counter. “I have Hanahaki…I’ve been coughing certain petals for some time, and it seems to be growing quicker than expected by the doctors. So, I may have to remove it soon.”

“What?!”

Noctis watches Ignis’s face stay the same cold, emotionless face as if he’s talking about politics. No way. Ignis has been hiding flowers? Wait a second, does that mean—

“Ignis, you like Gladio?”

Ignis’ facade fades as his cheeks darken more under his acne. “Well, I suppose so. That’s why I’m removing it,” he says as Noctis nods his head, thinking for a moment before jumping down from the barstool. He looks up at Ignis and nods his head. He knows how to fix this.

“Noctis, where are you going?”

“Processing,” he says, exiting the kitchen as carefully as he can. If Ignis even picks up what he could be doing, he’ll be done for.

Ignis raises an eyebrow at the antics and sighs “Yes, well, it must be shocking to know that I can have emotions,” he grumbles to himself, “and not just a stick with glasses.”

Noctis doesn’t hear the last part; as soon as he’s out of sight from Ignis, he’s running towards the training room. There’s no reason Ignis needs to suffer going through a procedure for something like the Hanahaki disease. He just needs to tell Gladio and everything will be alright.

He arrives at the training room and sees Gladio practicing his form with the wooden stick. No one else seems to be in the room, so Noctis slams open the sliding door.

“Gladio, Ignis has Hanahaki and it’s all your fault!”

Gladio drops the sword from his hands. “What the hell, Noctis?” he growls out, stomping over towards him. “You don’t scare people like that!”

“Did you even hear me?” Noctis asks, annoyed.

Gladio runs a hand over his face. “No, princess, I was too busy holding my heart inside my chest. I bet it’s some stupid game thing or—“

“Ignis loves you,” he interrupts, watching the color drain from Gladio’s face. “He has Hanahaki and is going to remove it…”

Gladio looks down at Noctis and sets his sword against the wall of the training room. “Where is he?”

“Kitchen,” he says as Gladio begins to walk down the hallway, grumbling about idiot advisors being more of a dumbass than him. Noctis smirks at him and walks off towards his room. It’s not time for bed but he doesn’t want to be in the kitchen when Ignis and Gladio finally figure themselves out. He’s not interested in that drama unless it’s keeping the peace between his friends.

* * *

“Wait a second: so you matched them?” asks Prom excitedly, feet dangling over the pier. The imaginary fish in the dream world dart from his feet as he scoots until they are just barely touching the surface. He kicks his legs out in the water a few times, looking at his legs. They’re not as chunky as they used to be, but they are still thick and getting covered in blonde hair that can barely be seen.

“I didn’t match them. Iggy and Gladio did that stuff,” he shrugs. “Not a big deal.”

“But he returned his feelings,” Prom says softly. “That’s so cool and amazing!”

Noctgar bumps his shoulder with Prom. “Never knew you were a romantic,” he teases.

Prom’s face turns pink. “I’m not. It’s just…it’s nice when someone loves you back. Poor Iggy, I hope he didn’t damage his lungs too much.”

“I don’t know, but he seems alright,” he says, looking at Prom. “So, flowers…you know about them?”

Prom looks over at him, confused. “You mean Hanahaki?”

“Yeah…I mean, more than what they teach in school?”

“Oh…I’ve had it before,” he says as Noctgar gasps. Prom holds his hands up “It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“But you just said…”

“That it’s nice when someone loves you back.” He winces. “It is, but you stop loving that person and the flowers go away eventually. Coughing up petals isn’t as great as they make it out in the movies,” he laughs.

“It looks painful,” Noctgar answers. “So, who was your crush?”

Prom snorts. “Wasn’t a crush. I don’t even think of stuff like that.”

“Huh, why not?”

Prom sighs. “Oh, Noctgar, you wouldn’t get it. I’m not…well, we figured this out when we first started coming here right? About appearances and stuff.”

“What, like how you can see part of the real me but not all of me—like it’s a blur and you can’t remember it?”

“Yeah, that stuff and well…”

“I know you’re soft and solid.”

“I wasn’t going to say I wasn’t.” He frowns. “But people don’t look at me as someone to date or even be friends with, which is why they develop crushes right?”

“Well, I know  _ I’d _ be your friend no matter what you look like,” Noctgar says, leaning against him. “Seriously, are all the people around you a bunch of assholes or something?”

Prom laughs. “Maybe…or I might just be too weird.”

“Hmm, maybe not. I mean, you’re weird but it’s not like you’re creepy or anything. I don’t know, you’re just Prom to me,” he says, feeling the tug on his line. “Fish time!”

Prom leans his arms on his knees as he watches Noctgar pull against the line, eventually getting a large fish out of the green lake with a face like a cat.

“Catfish?”

“Hey, don’t laugh. I was eight when I came here and thought that was the coolest pun,” he says as he snaps his fingers, making the fish disappear in a puff of smoke. “You hungry?”

“Uh, a little, I guess, but does it matter?”

“I don’t know; maybe you can cheat by eating something bad here and not gain weight.”

Prom frowns. “There’s no such thing as bad food, just higher calories. That’s all.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that you could imagine the biggest dessert in the world and eat it here without gaining weight, right? So why not?”

Prom rolls his eyes. “Because I don’t want to be hungry when I wake up. I tried it before.”

“What? when?” he asks, shocked.

“When you were fishing out from the pier a few nights ago…I gave myself a stomach ache here and in the real world I felt like I was starving. It wasn’t fun; besides, I don’t like sweets too much. A hamburger or cheeseburger sounds so good.”

Noctgar grins. “Then make one. Come on, I’ll split it with you, so you don’t feel so bad in the morning.”

“Oh, uh. Sure, if we split it,” he mumbles, holding his hand out and concentrating. A fuzzy picture begins to appear under his hands. It looks like a magazine picture of a cheeseburger with fries. It’s flat, and only two dimensional, until he pulls it out from the paper-like form and lets it float in the air a moment before setting on the ground, letting it expand into a blanket. The burger floats to the ground on a plastic plate and splits itself in half.

Noctgar high fives Prom,. “Awesome. It looks so good,” he says grabbing his half, about to chomp down when he sees Prom hesitate. “Prom, you alright?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, just thinking…have to rethink it.”

“Rethink what?” he asks before biting into the burger, moaning. “Oh my gosh, this is the best burger I’ve had.”

“Uh, you know. Calories and stuff,” he mumbles.

Noctgar finishes his bite. “I thought your trainer said they were ok?”

“Oh, yeah, they totally are. And he’s not my trainer, just a good guy.” He smiles. “He’s been helping me train a little, more than just running, anyway. Like, there’s this bell lift at the gym. It’s fun to play with, and he’s taught me how to do it right, too, so I don’t hurt myself. And he has all these spicy recipes I never thought of trying to make, but now I can make some and they’re so good. And healthier.”

“Sounds like he’s a trainer. Gladio and him would get along.”

Prom shakes his head. “No way he’s just being nice…he has to leave for college soon. I think when my summer starts, his school starts again.” He picks up the burger and takes a bite, tasting more flavors than he has in awhile.

“Yeah, well, you should definitely keep in touch with the guy.” Noctgar shrugs, enjoying the burger. “Sounds like a good friend you have in the real world, huh.”

“Friend?”

“Well, yeah. He hung out with you and helped you out right. That's a friend, right?”

“I guess so. Never thought of it that way since he’s like an… I don’t know, an older brother, I guess?”

“Hmm. Well, if that’s the case I got two older brothers, too. Who finally figured out how to not be dumb about flower stuff.” He licks his fingers, being sure to get all the juices that dripped down his arm from the burger.

Prom nods his head. “Yeah, so, I guess you’ll have to deal with the lovey-dovey stuff a lot more now,” he teases, making kissing faces.

“Ugh, gross. I don’t wanna see that…ugh, Prom, you just got that image in my head, you ass,” he complains, pushing his shoulder playfully.

“Worth it,” he laughs as Noctgar sticks his tongue out at him, standing.

“Ugh, I’m feeling it already,” he whines, looking down at Prom. “See you tonight. Maybe you can make your spicy stuff later.”

Prom shrugs. “Maybe. If you can handle it,” he says before feeling the sensation of his body beginning to wake up.

* * *

Prom groans as he wakes up slowly in bed. His alarm has yet to go off, but his body is ready to be awake already. He sits up on the side of the bed and scratches his head before walking towards the kitchen. His stomach feels empty even though he had something in the middle of the dream. Maybe some oatmeal and berries with cinnamon. It sounds good right about now. Plus, it gives his mind something to think of while he wakes up. Noctgar really does have a way with words. It’s too bad they can’t meet in real life. What are the chances they are even in the same area or district, not to mention the country?

Well, his Insomnia is good—fluent, even, so he must be somewhere in Insomnia, but who knows where. Is that something he should even be thinking about? It’s not like he could meet Noctgar like this. He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror and winces. No matter what Noctgar says in the dreamland, seeing the real Prompto might just shock him enough he wouldn’t even want to share his dreams with him anymore. It’s not a chance he’s willing to take, not until he looks decent or, at the very least, more normal. He sighs as he makes his breakfast and tries to focus on something else;  _ anything _ else.

Noctgar did say he was solid and soft, and maybe he didn’t mind. Valen also showed him weight wasn’t just a number, and he was happy with Kay. Maybe he just needed to think of his weight as something that’s just there. He’s feeling better about himself some days; but he just looked in the mirror today, and he’s not ready to do that anytime soon.

He had told Valen about his progress photos, even showed them to him, asking for advice when his training had begun, and he had been shocked. Prompto didn’t understand why he was shocked; it was just daily photos of what he wanted to change about himself. If he kept looking at them, he would remember to exercise more or eat less. He explained that to Valen, who, of course, gave him a full lecture on how that could be harmful.

Still, Prompto felt the pictures were important to take. How could taking daily pictures of himself be harmful? It would just be a reminder to get fitter; a goal of what not to be. How is that wrong?

He finishes his breakfast quickly, then walks over towards the mirror and picks up his camera. He sighs and forces his eyes to go blank as he takes a quick picture of himself in the mirror. He looks at the most recent image and scrolls through the older ones, noticing small changes. Nothing that could be recognized yet, but his cheeks don’t look so puffy anymore. His arms still look huge, though, as well as everything else.

He frowns, placing the camera back on the counter by the mirror before getting ready for the day, which includes getting in his gym clothes and prepping himself up for the early run in the morning. He was going to meet up with Valen and train with him. Maybe they could work with the medicine ball more today. It was tough, but it was fun—or Valen made those exercises fun.

Prompto is locking up the house when he sees some standing right by the mailbox. He freezes and begins to unlock the door to his house once more.

“Prompto,” says a low voice. “Hey, I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Cor?” he asks, pushing his glasses up as the man’s face comes into view.

Cor nods his head. “Heah, it’s me, bud. Heard you get up early now?”

Prompto grins and rushes over towards the man, hugging him around the middle. “Cor, I missed you a lot. Are you staying in Insomnia? How long are you gonna be here? Oh, I gotta show you to Valen. He’s so cool!”

Cor pats Prompto on the back awkwardly, getting out of the hug. “Huh. Sounds like you’ve been busy. Sorry for not coming back for your birthday. Has the camera been working out for you ok?”

“Huh? Oh,yeah, it’s great! Hold on,” he says excitedly as he rushes into the house before coming right back out with his camera. “It takes great pictures and look,” he says showing Cor his progress pictures. “I’m training a lot with Valen, and doing a lot of exercises, and I know it’s not much, but I think it’s working!”

Cor flips through the pictures, frowning. It shows the same image of the boy staring blankly into the mirror, the only variation being the shorts or hairstyle. “You take only these types of pictures?”

Prompto scrunches his brow. “No, I got pictures of dogs on there and cats I find when I walk home. There’s a pure white one on there trying to get from out of the fence,” he says, watching Cor’s expression. “Cor, did I do something wrong?”

“Huh, why would you think that bud?” he asks, handing the camera back to Prompto.

“You look sad…or upset.”

Cor sighs “You might be the only one who can detect my expressions,” he says as Prompto tilts his head in confusion. “Look, I’m glad you’re enjoying your camera, and progress pictures are a great way to monitor yourself, but you look miserable in them.”

Prompto fidgets with the camera strap. “But I have to…so I don’t go back to being that person. I don’t want to be fat anymore, Cor,” he says softly.

Cor doesn’t know the first things about kids, or how to comfort them. He’s a soldier, not a therapist. Still, he tries, awkwardly placing his hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Prompto, you’re fat, but it’s not bad.”

Prompto shakes his head. “Yes, it is. If I was smaller—“

“You would find another issue to focus on.” Prompto flinches, looking away. “Look, I’m not trying to be the bad guy here, but taking those photos of yourself isn’t healthy for you.”

“Neither is eating fast food and being lazy,” he pouts.

“Which you aren’t doing,” he counters. “You’re getting ready to run or train right, you’ve changed your diet to be healthier, and splurging now and then isn’t bad. Your size isn’t bad, Prompto.”

“But…but if that’s true why does everyone say it is?” he asks.

“Who said that?”

“My classmates,” he mumbles. “They think I can’t hear them because I don’t talk to them, but I hear it.”

Cor sighs and rubs his neck. He has no clue how to deal with this situation. He doesn’t want Prompto to feel bad about something so insignificant. “I can’t answer for them, bud, but I do know what they are saying isn’t right. I’m worried about you.” He says, patting Prompto on the shoulder. “Kids are assholes at this age. They just are, and I don’t want what some asshole from your school to hurt you and make you feel like you have to lose weight. If you want to, or want to exercise and it works, then great, but do it for yourself. Not because some ass at school said to. I’m just worried about you getting hurt or taking this too far.”

“That’s kind of what Valen said,” he mumbled.

“Yeah. Your friend you exercise with,” he asks, receiving a nod from Prompto. “Sounds pretty smart. We both might just be worried about you.”

“But, Cor, how could I get hurt if I’m exercising or dieting? Isn’t it healthy? And taking pictures isn’t bad either.” He frowns.

“You’re right; exercising and dieting can be alright, but if you take them to the extreme, it can get bad fast. Prompto, you’re still growing. Who knows, maybe you’re going to have a growth spurt these next few years, and if your body doesn’t have the energy to grow, then you won’t grow taller and you might feel weak, or sick, and hurt your body in the long run. And the pictures—Prompto, pictures should show the good moments, your happy ones, not these miserable images you force yourself to take to shame yourself.”

Prompto looks down at his feet, feeling his face turn red from embarrassment. He’s not going to cry in front of Cor. He's not a baby anymore. He can’t let everything affect him and be this sensitive.

Cor pulls Prompto in for a hug and pats his back. “It’s alright, you can cry. Just promise to take pictures with happy memories; ones you can smile about from now on, ok?”

“Y-yeah,” he manages to get out as he hugs Cor back. “Cor, are you gonna be here long?”

“For a little while until I get called again. Why?” he asks.

“No reason,” he says suddenly. “I like when you visit…that’s all.”

Cor smiles and rubs Prompto’s head. “Hmm…might be old enough to have my number, then. Do you have a cell phone yet? Kids get those early right?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.

Prompto shakes his head. “No…but I’ll memorize your number and can call?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You can call anytime, and I’ll try to answer. Can’t promise reception will be good where I go.”

Prompto looks up at him, worried. “Anytime? I don’t want to bother you.”

Cor looks into Prompto eyes, hand on his shoulder. “You’ll never bother me when you call. Anytime, bud.”

Prompto nods his head, smiling. “Ok…oh no, I’m gonna be late meeting Valen.”

“Uh, if you want, I can drive you there?”

Prompto shakes his head. “No way, I can run there and be a little late.”

Cor raises an eyebrow. “Prompto, are you going to have enough energy to work out with Valen if you do that?”

“Oh, yeah…I’ve done it before when my alarm went off late. It’s fun sprinting. I’ll be ok, promise,” he smiles, locking the house up once more.

“Hmm. Alright, just remember to take some good pictures.” he says. “Also, lunch is happening this weekend; my treat for being away for so long.”

Prompto beams, giving Cor a quick hug. “That sounds great, Cor. I can’t wait to see you later,” he says before starting a slow jog down the sidewalk. Cor watches him jog before beginning to run, and smiles. He might not look it, but Prompto is moving fast.


	10. Geranium

Gradually, Prompto had started to not take pictures of himself using the mirror and tried to find another way to track his progress. His shorts were a little looser than before, and that was all because of him. He felt lighter, his knees didn’t hurt as much and, overall, he was feeling better than when he first started to work out and diet. He didn’t feel dizzy or sick on his stomach like he did at first, and he was eating what he wanted—just at scheduled times. He wasn’t just running anymore, either; he had found lifting could be fun, as well as using the medicine ball or the rubber ball used for yoga. It was fun trying to find his balance on the bouncing ball. He didn’t know exercise could be fun.

Valen was a good friend and resource. He didn’t make him feel gross or too heavy when they exercised together. He didn’t mention his weight at all, just counted reps and taught him how to do the exercise the right way without injuring himself or finding someone to do it. He also called him a little bro a lot.

Prom smiles as he digs into breakfast Valen had taught him; he’s received a lot of recipes and health routines over the months. He still has a few habits to break, such as looking in the mirror and thinking of himself as not good enough, but it was a process. It wasn’t going to happen overnight.

Just like his interaction with Noctis at school was not going to change overnight. The prince wasn’t a bully. He just ignored it when his followers went after others who were interested in himself. The prince’s fans could be scary, and they weren’t just girls; there were some boys in the fan club as well.

Prompto was going to place his bag in his locker when he saw the drawings on the outside. It was upsetting what was written on there, but he knew they were just trying to scare him from talking to the prince. However, if they would combine their brain cells together, they would know he doesn’t talk to the prince at all. It’s not his fault his last name is closer to last names with Cs; it's just alphabetical seating.

Still, it is getting tiring cleaning up the same mess over and over. Maybe it was the heat of the day, maybe Prompto’s temper could not be kept in check after being demeaned over and over for years, or maybe he just finally snapped.

Either way, when he sees Noctis walking towards the lockers, his fist clenched, he turns around and yells at him.

“You need to call off your fan base,” he snips.

Noctis glances at him, looking more tired than confused, and shrugs.

“Hey, Noctis, I said you need to call off your fan club,” he hisses gaining the prince’s attention.

“Oh, the locker thing,” he says looking at Prompto’s locker. “I’m sorry but I can’t control that.”

“No, but you could stop it if you tried instead of ignoring it.”

“Sorry, but I don’t have time for it. Just tell a teacher.” He yawns.

“Right, and what’s a teacher going to do? Say to be more vigilant and not make myself a target. Geez, you’re such a—such a Tonberry! Stabbing everyone in the back and not doing anything about it!”

“Sure thing, Chocobutt.”

“What!”

“‘Cause of your hair. It looks like a Chocobo butt,” Noctis says, waving his hand in the air behind him and ignoring Prom steam himself up from the interaction. He doesn’t have time to deal with middle school politics; he wants a nap. So what; this guy’s locker got trashed, it’s not his fault. It’s whoever did it.

* * *

“Ugh, so what did the rich asshole do now?” asks Noctgar, looking over at Prom as he follows Carbuncle through the forest. They were training with Carbuncle—something about connecting their powers during the dream cycle. Carbuncle didn’t explain much; just that they should start connecting themselves closer.

“Not much…he doesn’t start anything. He just doesn’t defend the small people. I don’t think he knows how, or he doesn’t carm,” Prom says, tripping over a tree root.

Noctgar holds out his hand and helps him up with ease. “Yeah, well, he still sounds like a dick.”

Prom rolls his eyes, taking the offered hand, “I don’t know, but maybe I won’t have to deal with him after a while…I’m starting high school this year, so we might not even go to the same school.” He shrugs as he wipes the dirt from his shirt.

Both boys had grown over the years. Noctgar had grown a bit taller, calf muscles looking toned, but the upper body still remained lithe. He still had an air of mischief hidden in his eyes. His hair was overgrown tied back with a clip. Prom, meanwhile, had grown taller but still remained about the same size. He was not overweight, but he was not stick-thin either. His mass just fitted his body. Stretch marks could be seen under his arms, some pudge still poked out of his shirt, and his shorts might have been too tight due to his thighs, but overall he was happy.

The people who mattered to him didn’t care about how his appearance looked, and that’s all that mattered. Sure, some days he could fully accept his body as it was, but some days it was impossible. He was getting better, and with the support he had from Noctgar, he felt he was at a good spot in his life. Maybe an even better spot now that he would be going to high school away from Prince Noctis.

“Oh, whoa, you’re going to high school too?” Noctgar asks excitedly. “Maybe we’ll meet!”

“Y-yeah,” he says nervously, rubbing the back of his head and following after Noctgar. “We might, if you live in Insomnia,.”

Noctgar freezes in his pace and looks back at Prom. They hadn’t ever spoken about real-world locations before—at least, not ones related to where they might be. It was just an unwritten rule they both made. It never came up, anyway, until today.

“I live there too,” Noctgar says. “Um, maybe we should think of something to say?”

“To say?”

“You know—a password or something if we do meet? Like, I don’t know what Marlboros smell like?”

Prom snorts. “No way, everyone knows they smell already. It has to be something fun. Oh, like chocobos?”

“Ugh, you always want to make it about chocobos,” Noctgar whines as they continue to follow Carbuncle. He can feel himself beginning to awaken. “Hey, better choose a phrase real quick. I feel like I’m getting woken up.”

“Oh, well…how about the insult I gave the rich asshole? No one will know it but him, so how about a Tonberry that stabs everyone in the back?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Noctgar says as he begins to wake up.

Noctis eyes fly open as he sits up in bed, thinking over the last thing Prom said to him.

“Oh, Astrals…Prom is—oh Shiva, Prom is Prompto!”

* * *

Ignis wondered how he had the energy for this position. He was already seventeen, finishing out one of his college degrees while training to be in the Crownsguard daily with Gladio…which was a benefit of itself. He supposes it must be the youthful energy he still has, but still he was not ready for a half-dressed Noctis to rant and rave like a mad man before he’s had his Ebony.

“I’m sorry, repeat it again.”

“Ok, but don’t get mad, Specs,” he says as Ignis raises an eyebrow. Noctis points at him, “Specs, I said to not get mad.”

“Usually when one says don’t get mad, it means they know the other person will be mad, so just spit it out,” he says, crossing his arms.

Noctis takes a deep breath before relaying the entire story to Ignis. Including how he hid the fact his dreams were being monitored by Carbuncle, and he was receiving training with Carbuncle and another boy for the future—something about connecting would save him. Carbuncle never was clear on that part. He also mentions the fact he had figured out who the boy was last night, and that it was Prompto; the boy he had not been that great with.

“Specs, are you mad?”

“No…disappointed,” he says, seeing Noctis crumble. “I’m trying to condense this event and figure a solution.”

“And?”

“It’s simple. You need to confront this Prompto; apologize first, and then explain yourself.”

“Simple?” Noctis squeaks. “No, simple is just falling asleep. This is going to be a trial.”

“Then consider it practice for a real trial.” Ignis shrugs. “Now, then, if you have any other Eos-shattering news, I’ll hear of it after you get dressed for school.”

Noctis opens his mouth like a fish before wordlessly heading back to his room to get ready for school. He must have been on autopilot until he reached the school, because he doesn’t even remember walking into the school at all or staring at his locker.

This is how Prompto finds Noctis: staring at his locker as if it holds the answer to all life’s questions. He should just leave Noctis alone, but, well, he’s not going to be a jerk like him. He’s going to be helpful—or at least try to be.

“Noctis?” he asks bluntly as Noctis turns to look at him and jumps back as if he’s seen a ghost. Ouch, that hurt a bit. “You staring at the locker for fun?”

“You’re Prom,” Noctis says at the same time Prompto speaks.

Prompto raises an eyebrow. “Uh, no, it’s Prompto, but I guess you’re feeling better, so bye,” he says, trying to open his locker as quickly as possible. It looks like the Prince is having a meltdown. Over what, Prompto does not care; he just does not want to be involved with it.

Noctis runs a hand through his hair and taps Prompto on the shoulder, making the other jump. “Sorry, sorry,” Noctis says, earning a raised eyebrow from Prompto. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy.”

“Yeah, dude. We’re already there.”

“Ha, yeah. Listen, have you ever been to dreamland?”

“Are you on drugs?” he asks worriedly. “I mean, you’re acting pretty off today.”

“Prompto, I’m trying to ask…you know what, I know you’ve been in my dreams.”

“O-kay. Arrogant much?” he asks, trying to walk away from Noctis.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant—we’re in the dreams together, and we hang out and have fun.”

“Uh. I’m going to go now,” Prompto says, pushing past him.

“Carbuncle,” Noctis says suddenly as Prompto stops in his tracks. “Carbuncle—a little blue fox with a red horn? Loves to have his pets, and you give him the best ones. Not to mention your love of chocobos knows no bounds.”

Prompto turns around and looks at Noctis in confusion. “Noctgar?”

“Uh, yeah…surprise,” he says as Prompto laughs before taking off down the hallway.

“Prompto, wait! Let me explain,” he says, running after him before deciding to warp instead.

It wasn’t a good plan; he ends up warping right into Prompto, knocking him over and ending up laying on top of his body.

“I am so sorry,” he says as Prompto pushes him off. “Look, I’m sorry for everything, for being a dick, for not standing up for you, for when I was an ass years ago and freaked out on you. I’m sorry about it all. Look, all my life I’ve been worried about hurting someone or—or hurting people in general, just because of who I am, so I push them away. It’s not right, but I think it saves them and stops them from getting hurt by me indirectly or otherwise, and I did the same to you, and I’m sorry for that.”

Prompto stands up from the ground and looks at Noctis.

“You’re not playing a trick on me.”

“No.”

“This isn’t a prank?”

“No.”

“You’re sorry?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Noctis.

“Yes, a million times sorry…I don’t know, did I do a million things to say sorry to you?”

“I don’t know,” he says as the hallway goes silent. Prompto stands there, fidgeting with his fingers. “So, uh, what do you want to do?”

“Do?”

“Uh, yeah, you just found out the fat kid is your friend in dreamland.”

“You’re not fat.” Prompto gives him the stink-eye. “Alright, you are, but so what?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Noctis. Like gee, dude, what was I telling you the other day about your crazy fan club getting out of control again?” he asks, tapping a finger to his chin.

“Ok, got it loud and clear,” he says, holding his hands up. “So, I just tell them we are friends.”

“Right. Just out of the blue, you decided to be my friend?”

“Uh, yeah, why not…I mean, do you care what they think? We got, what, a month left before we go off to high school? I think I can handle a few crazy fans freaking out that you’re my friend.”

Prompto sighs and clasps both his hands together. “Ok, so, let’s see. Say we do this friendship thing now because of everything that just happened…do we still do dreamland stuff? Like, won’t it be awkward?”

“Uh, buddy, it’s already awkward…maybe we just don’t hang out there? Give each other space for a while while we figure this other stuff out?”

“Y-yeah that sounds good…ok, so. Bye, or see you later,” he says, the words stilted, and waves goodbye.

“Y-eah later,” Noctis says, waving back to him as he tries to process all of what happened. Did he just talk to Prom—no, Prompto—and everything is going to be ok? Why is his heart racing so fast? What exactly is going to happen now? How are they even going to be friends in the real world? They can’t just poof something and magic happen. He’s never been good with this friend stuff before, except with Prom, and now it looks like Prompto hates his guts. Maybe he should just leave the guy alone for now; let everything be processed before making a move to be friends. That seems reasonable, seems like it deserves an Ignis seal of approval.

That plan lasts for exactly five days before Prompto approaches him at school.

“Ok, so I know you said we would take an easy and have more space to figure this all out, and—not going to lie, the awkward dreamland we’ve been doing is driving me a little crazy. So I think we need to do something in the real world to kick start the friendship,” he says, unsure.

“Uh, what?”

“Do you wanna go to the arcade with me, is what I’m asking, dude. For, you know, friendship power to activate,” he says, holding out his fist as Noctis just stares at it, confused, before Prompto lowers his arm.

“So, arcade after school?”

Noctis nods his head. “Yeah, sure. Just gotta tell Iggy about it. He freaks if I don’t tell him where I’m going to be at all times.” He rolls his eyes.

Prompto smiles. “That must be nice, having someone worry about you.”

“I guess,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He had forgotten that Prompto’s parents weren’t around often, or at all. They even made him suffer Hanahaki just because their work was more important. He watches Prompto stare at him, waiting for something.

“So, uh, which arcade,” Prompto asks, standing there awkwardly.

“I don’t know, maybe Ignis can drive us…he did just get his license but he’s an expert already,” he says as Prompto’s face pales.

“Are you sure you want me to meet him?”

“Sure, why not?” Noctis asks, confused.

“Dude, what if this whole friendship thing we try flops? What if this whole thing fails and you go whoops, just kidding, Prompto, let’s go back to ignoring each other forever or—”

Noctis sighs. “Hey, don’t worry so much. I mean, Prom…Prompto. That’s going to be weird getting used to.”

“Yeah, and Noctgar wasn’t.” He smirks before groaning loudly. “I was so dumb not figuring it out sooner. I mean, really, Noctgar…wait gar is a type of fish—you really just called yourself a fish?”

“Hey, give me a break; I was ten and I had to come up with it on the spot,” Noctis says, cheeks flushing as he looks over Prompto’s head. “ Anyway, Iggy is really relaxed. I mean, he is for someone who follows the rules. Just—it’ll be fine, don’t worry about it so much,” he says, patting Prompto on the back.

“Hmm…I guess,” Prompto shrugs, putting his hair behind his glasses. He might need to get it cut soon. The bell rings and he sighs, heading for the classroom. Noctis catches up to him by his side.

“Seriously, running off without me?” he says nervously as Prompto looks at him in confusion.

“But I thought you didn’t want to do anything until after the arcade happens? Just in case you change your mind?”

Noctis snorts. “Nah, I don’t think I’ll change my mind anytime soon. If you’re the same as who you are in the dreamland, then it’ll be fine. I like you there, why won’t I like you here?” He shrugs.

Alright. Needless to say after their initial interaction and planning for the arcade after school today, Prompto has been dealing with butterflies in his stomach since the bell rang. It’s not Noctis’ fault—he can’t blame him for this—but can’t he feel everyone staring at him? Prompto thought it would be alright, but Noctis was actually talking to him at school. The same Noctis who ignored everyone unless someone made it a point to speak to him, was talking to him, Prompto.

Prompto doesn’t know if Noctis is just immune to staring, or immune to being watched all the time, but it’s starting to get on his nerves. His palms are sweaty, he can barely take any notes without feeling like people are whispering behind his back. It was different when it was just him they were whispering about. He could ignore it, but now that he had the sole attention of most of the student body on him instead of a few of his classmates, he felt singled out. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should cancel the arcade idea and just go back to being a friend to Noctis in his dreams, where nothing could hurt them. It seems like a safer plan than this.

“Prompto,” Noctis says, tapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, Iggy’s gonna be outside.”

“Y…yeah,” he says uncertainly, gathering his bookbag before following Noctis slowly. He keeps looking to the side and hears the mumbling and tries to block them out, face going blank as he focuses on Noctis.

“Ah, come on Prompto,” Noctis says, grabbing his hand and pulling him up beside him. “Don’t walk behind him, walk  _ by _ me.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure…hey, Noctis, are you ok with this?” he asks as they exit the school together.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Nothing, just making sure you won’t regret it,” he mumbles.

“Hmm. The only thing I regret is not getting enough time to kick your ass at Halas 2. Have you played that game at the arcade yet?”

Prompto snorts. “Uh, no. I haven’t been to an arcade in a few weeks.”

Noctis gasps. “Oh man, you’re gonna like it. Has some daemon zombies you have to kill to save the princess or something stupid, but the fighting graphics are awesome.”

Prompto smiles. “Yeah, it sounds cool,” he says, stopping as he sees a tall, older teen exiting a black vehicle with ease.

“Noctis,” greets Ignis, “you have company.” He says it more as a question, scrutinizing the blond by Noctis' side. Prompto tries to stare at him but eventually looks away, embarrassed, as he fiddles with the strap of his book bag.

“Oh, yeah, this is Prompto…he’s cool and wants to play at the arcade. I said it was fine if we got a ride there from you,” he says, giving Ignis the puppy dog eyes.

Ignis sighs. “That trick only worked when you were younger…however, I do have some errands to run to before we head home. Two hours at the arcade, along with immediately coming home to finish your homework, should suffice.”

Noctis smiles in relief as Prompto watches Ignis open the car door. “Awesome, Specs. Hey, Prompto, come on,” he says, gesturing for the blond to enter the car with him.

Prompto looks up at Ignis before nodding his head. “Be there in a sec.” He answers, entering the car quickly and dropping his bag on the backseat of the car in front of him.

“Hey Princess, who’s this?” asks a larger man sitting up in the front seat. Prompto nearly jumps at the sound of the man’s voice.

“Oh, this is Prompto, Gladio,” Noctis answers.

“That’s Gladio?” Prompto squeaks as Gladio only answers with a smirk.

“Yeah, I know, right? With those huge muscles and the deep voice you’d think he’d never pick up a book, but you’d be wrong.” Noctis grins.

“Nice to meet you, Prompto,” Gladio says, holding out a hand. Prompto reaches over and shakes it, feeling the firm grip squeeze his hand. This guy could pulverize him, and no one would even care or be the wiser.

“So, then. Gladio, we are dropping the two of them off before completing our errands.”

“Errands?” Gladio asks before seeing Ignis raise one eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, errands. Totally slipped my mind with all the training I’ve been doing lately.”

“Do you really use a sword bigger than your body?” Prompto asks suddenly as all eyes but Ignis’ stare at him. “Oh, uh…Noctis mentioned it one time in dre—during class, I meant. Just curious.”

Gladio looks over at Noctis, seeing the teen glance out the window, and huffs. “Yeah, something like it, but it took years to be able to even lift it and not hurt my back.”

“Whoa, that’s cool,” Prompto said, smiling.

Ignis clears his throat. “Speaking of; how were you privy to such information if you have just met today?”

“Huh…oh, uh, well.” He looks over at Noctis for help. He nudges him in the side as Noctis answers.

“Oh, you know. It just came up.”

“It just came up?” Ignis prods, looking at him through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, you know. It happens.”

Gladio catches Prompto’s nervousness right off the bat and sees the kid sitting on his hands as Noctis explains the answer.

“Huh, that could have happened, but why is blonde so nervous?” he asks.

“Oh, you know. Nice car ride with Noctis, kind of makes you nervous, right?” He laughs nervously as Gladio raises an eyebrow, not convinced.

Prompto can’t do this. Sure, lying to himself easily as cake but lying to someone else is more difficult. You have to remember the story and make sure you don’t fall into a trap, and, well if Ignis is a good enough strategist as Noctis claimed he was in dreamland, then it’s better to just be honest.

“We met in dreamland, actually,” Prompto blurts out, feeling sweat roll down his neck. Noctis glares at him. “It’s, uh, kind of a long story, but that’s how we met, and we’ve been meeting in dreams a lot.”

“Prompto,” Noctis whispers harshly.

“Dude, I can’t lie,” he whispers back. “Damn it, I knew this wasn’t going to work. I’m sorry, you can pull over and I’ll walk home.”

Gladio blinks as Ignis continues to drive as if nothing has happened. “Wait, dreamland? What are you talking about?”

Ignis grips his hands on the wheel, trying to calmly place his foot on the gas. “Noctis, Prompto has been able to enter the dreams you have with Carbuncle?”

Gladio winces and hisses through his teeth. “Ooo,  _ that _ dreamland thing…wait, I thought only Noctis could go there with him.”

Prompto fidgets in his seat. “Uh, no…I don’t know how it happened, but Carbuncle brought me there in my dreams to him and it, uh…we’ve been friends there.”

“But not in the real world until today. Someone finally figured it out?” Ignis asks.

“Ok, fine, fine, I did it,” Noctis groans. “Prompto was in my dreams, we’ve been hanging out there for years—best friends and everything. And then he said something a week ago that made me think Prompto was the same guy in my dream, and now we’re doing this friendship thing or trying to without, you know, drama.”

“I’m sorry, it was my fault for—”

“Apologies not needed,” answers Ignis. Prompto blinks at the driver’s backseat confused. “It simply seemed rare that, after all these years in school, Noctis would bring someone with him to have fun with at an arcade.”

“So are you mad?” asks Noctis.

“Iggy’s not mad. You’d have a dagger in the face if he was,” Gladio says bluntly, earning a glare from Ignis. “Point is, we’re just worried. No offense, Prompto, but we don’t know you. You could be trying to kidnap Noctis or something more nefarious.”

“Thanks.” Prompto winces.

“Oh, don’t be like that; we just need a background check and you nerds can veg out on video games or whatever it is you like to do.” He shrugs as Ignis pulls the car to the side of the curb.

“So, we can still go to the arcade?” asks Noctis.

Ignis blinks at him. “Well, it appears I have parked right by it. so I would assume so. Remember: two hours.”

Noctis nods his head, motioning for Prompto to unbuckle his seat belt so they could get out of the car. Prompto doesn’t have to be told twice. He wants to get out of this nightmare car. He can feel his heart beating a mile a minute, and feels the seat squeak under him as his scoots outside the car. His thighs and backside are drenched in sweat.

“Prompto, a moment if you would,” says Ignis. Prompto nods his head and nervously stands by the car window where Gladio is as Ignis speaks to him. “I’ll need your address and last name. The sooner we start this background check, the sooner we can grant you clearance.”

“Oh, um, sure,” he says, mumbling off his address and last name as Gladio types it in his phone. “Um, Ignis? Thanks for the ride and not freaking out over everything.” He frowns.

“It’s my job to keep calm and collected.”

“Which you do a stellar job at as long as Noctis isn’t in danger,” Gladio teases, earning a glare from Ignis.

“Well, then, please make sure Noctis will be ready in two hours. We will pick him and you up at this spot,” he says as Prompto offers a nod of his head. Once Prompto has confirmed the instructions, Ignis backs the car away from the curb and drives off, leaving Prompto confused more than ever.

He feels someone pull on his shoulder and looks back at Noctis. “Prom, come on, we gotta get our gaming on.”

Prompto smiles as he follows Noctis. “Sure thing, Noctgar.” he says, earning a loud groan from Noctis as he heads for the nearest two-player game.

* * *

Gladio can feel the tension from his boyfriend rolling off his body in waves. He might look calm and collected, but the slight twitch of his eyebrows and grip on the steering wheel say otherwise.

“So, I’m guessing you don’t believe their story.”

Ignis doesn’t say anything, still focused on driving.

“Babe, come on, weirder stuff has happened.”

“But not this,” he says shortly, lips pursing. “I’m sorry for snapping, but this is unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable,” Gladio says, quaking an eyebrow.

“Yes, why would Carbuncle or any of the messenger gods choose someone so—so…”

“Normal?”

“Yes, exactly! If they were going to choose someone to enter Noctis' dreams, it should have been a Crownsguard, or someone with experience of fighting— skills of anything that could be even remotely helpful to Noctis!”

Gladio sighs, leaning back in the car seat. “Maybe Prompto can do that.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Look, Noctis has guards and all. He doesn’t need them in his dreams, too. Give the kid a little freedom.”

“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. An Insomnia citizen can enter Noctis' mind and we have no idea who they are!”

“Noctis vouched for them.”

“That’s not enough and you know it.”

“Look, I’m just calling it as I see it. Noctis looks happy. Shit, Ignis, he looks happy and not that blank-faced kid anymore, and if that Prompto guy can do that then, so what?”

“Gladio, please…I—I have seen the change in Noctis ever since he started having those moments in entering dreams with Carbuncle. It was terrifying at first. He was tired after them, exhausted, even, and then it changed.”

“Maybe that’s when Prompto entered them.”

“It might be, but, Gladio, this could be some ploy to get closer to Noctis and hurt him,” he says, throat constricting. “I do not want him to get hurt.”

Gladio sighs. “I know. I’m worried too, but you gotta let him make his own mistakes.”

“But…”

“Uh-uh, no buts allowed. Look, he needs to make his own decisions. Or the ones he still has left. So, let him make a few mistakes that won’t have consequences that can be easily fixed. He’s going to be king one day, and that’s when we need to be ready to kick his ass into gear if needed.” He grins.

Ignis sighs. “I suppose so…still, I wish to run a background check on him.”

“Way ahead of ya. Already sent it to the security…oh, whoops.”

“Whoops,” asks Ignis, parking the car in the parking lot of the nearest grocery store. “What do you mean whoops?!”

“I may have sent it to The Marshal; you know, Cor. I mean, he’s security too, just need to send it to another person…or not,” he says, looking at the text coming over the phone.

“Oh no, what does it say? Are you in trouble for wasting his time?”

Gladio rolls his eyes “Nah, it’s Cor. He wants me to call or text him with issues any time. I mean, even when he’s super busy he still answers me back. It’s kind of great,” he says, reading the text. “Uh, anyway, Prompto is cleared.”

“What?” Ignis asks, looking over the text from Cor. “He doesn’t have the power to clear him so soon.”

“Nope, but he did say it’s classified and not to go snooping,” he says, looking over at Ignis in concern.

“Then we can assume Prompto is no ordinary citizen?”

“Yep, but has Cor’s seal of approval, so I say we leave it alone.”

“But—”

“Ignis, we leave it alone.” He places his hands on Ignis’ shoulders. “Cor wouldn’t vouch for someone if they were evil, we gotta trust him.”

Ignis sighs, adjusting his glasses. “I suppose so. Still, it does add more mystery to that boy.”

“Yeah, but when we need to solve that mystery Cor will tell us, or it will come out. It doesn’t seem to be dangerous, whatever it is, so we gotta leave it be, Ignis,” he says, watching Ignis’s brows furrow together. He leans over and kisses him on the cheek, making him blush. “Sorry, babe, couldn’t resist you.”

Ignis ears pinken as he clears his throat. “Yes, well, be that as it may, we still need to keep an eye on both of them.”

Gladio chuckles. “Course, babe, whatever you say.” He grins as Ignis smiles, getting out of the car.


	11. Forget Me Nots

Prompto’s life has been a series of ups and downs. He admits that’s just what life is about; a lot of downs and a few ups thrown in between. He never expected in his wildest dreams that he would befriend Noctis, the cold prince of Insomnia. They didn’t exactly have a great beginning, and when they finally managed that first step into a friendship it was rocky, but eventually it didn’t take them long to become fast friends.

They had already been friends in the dreamland for years, now it was just getting acquainted in the real world. Becoming real-life friends in the waking world instead of only in their dreams. It was strange, at first, trying to start conversations with someone you had known for years but had never interacted with personally until now.

It was slowly becoming a new normal for Prompto.

After their last day of middle school summer started and along with it came their summer adventure before high school. Which included, but was not limited to, his first visit to the Citadel. Sure, group tours went into the Citadel, but mostly to look at the gardens or office buildings; not the official Citadel where Noctis slept and spent his childhood!

He didn’t want to act like some inexperienced plebe, but it was amazing when he entered the Citadel along Noctis' side. His camera must have been full before the day’s end. The lighting, the building structure, the random cats that figured ways in past the guards. It was amazing.

However, to Noctis, it seemed like just a normal day, and, well, it made sense, but how could anyone ever get used to such a grand place to live?!

Noctis, however, rarely hung out at the Citadel. He mentioned to Prompto how it was too closed off or suffocating. Prompto didn’t understand how with all the open space, but he didn’t mind if Noctis wanted to spend more time outside at places such as the arcade, or parks, or local pool centers. Taking Noctis to the local pool was an experience. That’s all Prompto can really say about it.

Noctis had an indoor pool, but rarely was it filled with anyone but himself, and maybe Ignis or Gladio if they had time. He was not expecting such a large pool to be filled with so many people. Not to mention that being pushed or shoved around  _ just _ to get to the diving board was not a great experience. So, while Prompto had fond memories of going to the public pool, Noctis had put a stop to it after the first day with a statement along the line of: “Prompto, you can come to my pool any time you want.”

It was a great offer and very generous of the shy teen to offer his pool up for Prompto. It made him feel something grow in his belly. Something warm and soft. It might have just been indigestion, if he was honest.

However, summer didn’t last long, and before he knew it, Prompto was staying by Noctis' side in high school. He was uncertain if their friendship would last based on the fact most media portrayed beautiful teenagers leaving their less-than-pretty friends behind for popularity. And, if Prompto could be honest, he thought Noctis was beautiful. His face looked like porcelain and his eyes were such a crystal blue that they seemed to dazzle. Of course, Noctis complained about having such a smooth face. He wanted some stubble or anything to form on his chin or cheeks, but all he found was soft wisps of hair.

Unfortunately for Prompto, he had the opposite experience; while his hair was blonde enough to not be seen by the naked eye, it did get scruffy faster, which left him with shaving his face often and using creams to keep it looking smooth looking at least for a few days. It was just another thing added to the list of his routine.

His routine, in his opinion, wasn’t bad. He woke up and exercised, did what Gladio called his beauty routine, ate some breakfast, and went to school to hang out with Noctis and maybe hit the arcade that day, or just walk and talk around Insomnia with his best friend. Just normal simple teenager experiences.

It was nice being able to hang out with Noctis in real life. He never expected it to be better than hanging out with him in the dreamland, but it was different—more real. It was difficult to explain, but he felt more connected to Noctis being in his presence, being allowed in his space, allowed to take up his time, and not feel guilty about it. It was a nice feeling.

Gradually, though, as they went through the motions of a high school experiencing the typical ups and downs, something changed. Prompto couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He couldn’t explain it away, but he remembered feeling something similar before. It started with an ache in his chest and he related it to not stretching the day before his exercise routine. He was no longer exercising to lose weight—that struggle was behind him for the most part. He still had his bad days, but he had someone to share those bad days with. He wasn’t alone with his issues anymore; the support was great. Still, the ache in his chest hadn’t gone away for some time. It started small; just a feeling of an overstretched muscle crossing down the length of his chest, and eventually grew into a heavy feeling resting on top of him at night. It was annoying more than painful, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. Hopefully, in a few weeks, the ache would be gone.

The ache didn’t leave.

The ache became a constant during Prompto’s daily life. It felt like someone was pressing against his top half at all times, squeezing him like an empty tube of toothpaste. It was starting to become painful and aggravating. Of course, once it reached that point, he began to search for answers online…which was the wrong decision. Most of them said he was having a heart attack and needed to go to the hospital if he was having chest pain. Others stated he might have highly active nerves that are causing the issue, or it could just be simple heartburn. He sighs, scrolling through the pages and soaking up the information when he feels the first tickle in his throat. He tries to clear it, swallowing a few times, but it still feels as if someone has dropped a feather down his throat. It’s not pleasant at all.

He finally feels something move up his throat and coughs it up into his hand— which, on his part, he should have had a tissue to catch it. However, what he sees in his hands has him shaking as he looks at the mucus-covered black leaf.

“Oh no.” He rushes towards the bathroom, washing his hands of the evidence before pacing around in tight circles.

“Ok, so it’s a flower petal, not a big deal, not a big deal at all—just one petal. You can handle this…and figure out what it could be.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs. “It’ll be ok. I’ll just suppress it just like I did with Mom and Dad. I can do that again, no big deal, really, just who would be a black flower?”

His eyes widen at his realization as he covers his mouth. “Noctis?! Oh no, no, no. It can’t be him—I mean, we’ve been hanging out more and I’ve got warm feelings in my belly, but that indigestion or gas not—”

He says to himself in the mirror. “This is going to end horribly. I just need to suppress it…somehow.” He looks at his reflection and in the mirror as if it could give him the answer on how he will suppress those feelings, before cursing.

* * *

Noctis sighed, lying in bed. He had plans on visiting Prompto today, but with the recent turn of events of the last few days he had been avoiding him. It wasn’t something he could solve or figure out so easily by himself. Sure, he knew the symptoms, had them driven in his head since he could walk, but to actually start experiencing them was torture. He wasn’t going to cry to his dad or Ignis about it. It didn’t hurt as much as the back pain he had frequently. He could handle a little cough and spitting up flowers with a few spots. They’re called viola freckled seeds. He had time to search the name of the flower while lying in bed because his “back” hurt. He didn’t like to use it as an excuse, but it  _ was _ hurting from all the coughing and he was too stubborn to tell anyone the real reason. He sighs, scrolling through the images of the various flowers and stares at the viola freckled seeds. Just like their name, they are covered in freckles on a white to violet flower. The spots are dark violet and stand out against the white flower. It reminds him of Prompto’s freckles and violet colored eyes covered by the glasses. Seriously, when did Prompto start looking so hot? Not that he wasn’t before, or whatever.

He groans, hiding his face in the pillow. Finding out you like, or maybe might even love, your best friend is not as great as it seems. It might not matter what Noctis thinks about Prompto, but everyone else will. They’ll use him as a target; a way to get to him through Prompto. He knew Prompto wasn’t going to be safe as his friend when he became friends with him, but this was different. This would be going after someone important to him. And Prompto is important to him. Important enough that he will not tell anyone he has Hanahaki for his best friend. He won’t put him in danger, no matter how much he wants to mush his cheeks and kiss him, or just lay on his lap like a content cat, or just snuggling in general with the soft guy. It must be so warm and soft and safe. Definitely safe in those arms. Seriously, he gives the best hugs when Noctis allows himself to be hugged. It’s soft and strong all at once and just encompasses his whole being. He feels complete.

He sits up in bed suddenly and hacks up another flower from his throat; thankfully, it hadn’t got caught in his windpipe like last time. He knows the only cure for it is confessing and having the feelings returned but maybe there’s another way. There has to be some other way to get rid of it. Maybe he could ask someone for advice. Someone he trusted since he was young.

He rubs his head and looks for some paper and a pen. It had been a few months since he had talked to them. He had lost track of time. When it came to Prompto, he seemed to lose track of more than just time. How can one person be so adorable…and why is he sounding like some cheesy high school girl? He sighs before writing out a letter to someone who has wisdom beyond their years.

This was only the beginning. It seemed as if days went by quicker than before, turning into weeks since his incident with the flowers. Noctis had taken to carrying tissues with him wherever he went; it would be sensible if he sneezed into a tissue or coughed into one. No suspicion there as long as he crunched up the flower inside the tissue and threw it away quickly. This was fine. Everything was fine for now.

“Noctis, there seems to be a message for you,” Ignis says, stirring the pot on the stove and pointing towards the small black dog panting on the floor.

“Umbra,” Noctis says, excitedly, patting the dog on the head as he takes the message from the dog and opens it. He’s been waiting for days for Luna to respond. She’s the only one with enough sense to clarify what is happening. Maybe she’ll have an answer he can clearly use to solve this problem with the flowers. He opens the letter and inside is only one sentence written in her beautiful, careful script.

_ Just confess already. _

Noctis turns the paper over, expecting more and seeing nothing but those three little words.

“Is something the matter Noctis?” Ignis asks.

“Uh , I don’t—” He stops talking, coughing into his fist and turning his back from Ignis. He doesn’t need Ignis to see this.

Ignis sighs and places a hand on his back,. “How long have you been coughing up flowers?”

“What?” Noctis says, laughing nervously. “What are you talking about.?”

Ignis straightens his glasses. “I do clean your bathroom, including the trash can,” he says, watching Noctis turn pink and look away. “It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he says, pulling away from him. “I’m terrified.”

“Terrified of what?”

“He’s going to get hurt because of me…I won’t be able to protect him. I’m not strong enough, and even if I was, I couldn’t ask him to stay by me or even give this a chance…”

“You know who it is?”

“Iggy, I figured it out after the first flower.” He laughs sadly. “It’s Prompto.”

* * *

Alright, so this might be the worst idea he’s had in the last seventeen years of his life, but he’s tired of coughing up the black flower. It’s small enough and flimsy enough it doesn’t block his airway, but he can still feel his chest hurting after each forceful cough to get the flower out of his throat. It would be a cool looking flower if it wasn’t covered in mucus. It’s a petunia blackberry hybrid flower; it looks like a black star with a blue center, a very regal and nice-looking flower if he has to cough one up.

Still, it’s time. He has to do this. He has to explain himself, and maybe Noctis will forgive him for having feelings for him. Maybe he will still want to be his friend because the other impossible option is that he will accept his feelings.

Prompto snorts. “This isn’t some rom-com or feel good fanfic. This is real life, and no one goes for the weird guy.” He sighs and gets dressed in his most comfortable clothes that still flatter his figure. He may get rejected, but at least he’s going to give it his all and try his best. He’s going to try, at least. Who knows, maybe Noctis will laugh it off? Maybe they will be able to laugh about it after a week or so and go back to being normal. Prompto shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. He needs to be positive. He’s going to rock Noctis off his socks, he’s going to confess, get it all off his chest and…and, well, maybe it won’t go so great, but he’s going to do it!

He locks up his house, taking a few deep breaths before walking outside, determined. He can do this. He can confess and have everything fixed in the end. He nods his head, taking his first steps towards the place he told Noctis to meet up with him.

It doesn’t take long to reach the area; it’s a kid’s park, mostly empty. He thought it would be best to be somewhere public, but also private in some way. In case the reveal becomes pear-shaped, he can exit gracefully or at least have a head start heading home. He brushes the invisible dirt that got on his shirt and stands by the bench, too excited to sit down and wait for Noctis. The tree by the bench offers some shade and keeps him cooler. However, he can already feel himself start to sweat, and he doesn’t want to look like a worse hot mess than he already must be.

“Hey.”

He turns around, hearing the familiar voice, and sees Noctis dressed casually but in a way that says whatever is happening today is important.

Prompto gulps. “Hey.”

He stares at Noctis' hands, fidgeting as Noctis looks over at him worriedly. “So…”

“Uh, so,” he starts slowly, unsure how to respond. This wasn’t what he practiced in the mirror. This was turning out to be terrible. He was going to ruin this all over some stupid flowers.

He feels Noctis take his hands and looks up at him. Noctis offers a small smile and Prompto sighs.

“So, this might end badly.”

“Yeah?”

“I said it might,” he mumbles, “not sure but.” He clears his throat as he lets go of Noctis hands. “You—you remember when I told you about when I got Hanahaki?”

Noctis nods his head.

“Well, you see, the thing about it is that you never forget how it starts, or what it felt like, and you try to suppress it like last time and it doesn’t work.” He pauses, licking his lips. “So, you try to find other ways to get rid of it and find out the only other way is surgery, but at the cost of losing the memory of that person, or forgetting everything you’ve done together. So, I thought…I want to be selfish for once, you know,” he says, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. “I wanted to say what I want at least once, and see what happens, even if it hurts.”

“Prom.”

Prompto shakes his head. “I just wanted to say why I’ve been so distant and I don’t want you to agree to anything, or say yes just because it’s the right thing to do, or the nice thing to do when I tell you this. I want you to be honest because I’m trying to be as honest as I can with you…and fumbling.” He lets out a chuckle.

“So, what I’m saying is…I have Hanahaki again and I think I might have your flower because I’ve been thinking it’s you for the last few weeks and—”

“Are you serious?” Noctis interrupts, causing Prompto to flinch.

“I—yes.” He frowns. “I’m sorry.”

Noctis grabs his shoulders. “I…it’s a yes or whatever, but I got your flower too, or I think it is. It has freckles and your violet eye color, and it reminds me of you and hugs?”

Noctis looks at Prompto, who’s just standing there not moving an inch. “Prom, buddy?”

“You…you have my flowers?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” he laughs. “They’re gorgeous, by the way, and that’s coming from a guy who doesn’t know much about them. But I like them a lot. Like, they’re such a  _ you _ flower.”

“I…ok, dude, this was so not how I was expecting it to happen.” Prompto chuckles,holding a hand to his chest.

“Hey, you ok?” Noctis asks, placing a hand on his arm.

“Ye-yeah, fine. Just shocked and I’m feeling better. It doesn’t hurt as much to breathe and—you really like me?” he asks, shocked.

Noctis grins. “Well, duh. Took some flowers about to kill us for us to confess, so. Yeah, dude, I’d say I like you. More than just  _ like, _ if that sounds cool.”

Prompto snorts. “S’cool, but why?”

Noctis takes inventory of Prompto, looking at him closely, scrutinizing everything about him before giving him a soft smile. “Cause your soft. I have to deal with rigid or strict people all the time. It’s all orders, no bending the rules or just being free, or you know. And your soft and like water taking any shape and dealing any hardship that comes your way like it’s nothing. Do you know how strong you are? You’re amazing Prom and you're just… I don’t know how to explain it all. This crap has happened to you and you still are just so soft and warm; it’s pretty amazing.” He grins. “But, uh, I have the same question: why me?”

Prompto blinks his eyes a few times. “Dude, have you seen yourself? You’re hot as hell when you do warping. Like, one minute you’re here, next minute you’re somewhere else in an instant. You tolerate my humor and weirdness, like a lot. You are awesome at video games and you change. Like, you used to be this quiet, lonely guy and then you started to open up more and started to protect people and listen. You didn’t let stuff just happen anymore. You stood up for people and changed. You are so strong for that. You’re amazing, Noctis.”

“…So now we can hug, right. Like, a lot,?” Noctis asks, rubbing the back of his neck before he feels Prompto’s arms wrapping around his body with ease, squeezing him tightly.

“Asking to hug? Uh, yeah, dude,” he laughs. “You’re really great, Noctis.”

Noctis smiles and hugs Prom from around his middle. “You are too, Prom.”

Prompto laughs as he hugs Noctis tighter before releasing him. “So, uh, now what?”

“Hmm. Pizza date?” Noctis shrugs.

“What?!” Prompto asks, shocked.

“Huh?”

“You said date?!”

“Well, yeah, we’re boyfriends, now right?”

“What?!”

“‘Cause, why not.” He shrugs.

Prompto holds a hand to his chest, sighing. “You know, this is too much excitement for me. I was planning for the worst.”

“And you got the best.” he smirks.

“Yeah, I did,  _ boyfriend,”  _ he teases, seeing Noctis turn pink around the ears. “Which pizza place are we going to?”

Noctis shrugs. “I don’t know, dude. Anywhere,” he says, laughing.

Prompto follows his lead and laughs along with him before grabbing Noctis' hand in his own. It’s what good boyfriends do. He looks at their linked hands then looks at Noctis, who only offers a grin of approval before changing the topic to something else while holding Prompto’s hand. Prompto beams, squeezing Noctis' hand softly as he just listens to him talk. For now, it seems perfect. Who knows what the future holds, but for now it’s good enough for Prompto. It’ll be enough for now.


End file.
